The Snippets in the Stories
by Rochelle Templer
Summary: A series of one-shots and drabbles. Some light and fluffy, some dark and angsty, and some somewhere in between...*On hiatus*
1. Snacks

Author's Note: Yes another new fic. :) But this one is different in that it won't really have a beginning or end. It's mainly just a place to put all of the ideas I come up with for short bits that don't work as standalone stories or as part of my long fics. This chapter came to me from a tweet from John Francis Daley's Twitter account.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who reads/follows/reviews this. It's always appreciated.

Chapter One—Snacks

Even though he was staring right at the scrap of paper in his fingertips, Sweets could hardly believe his eyes.

* * *

><p>After having a very light breakfast of a scrambled egg and some coffee that morning, Sweets had found himself hungry again a couple hours later. He didn't plan on going to lunch for a while yet, so the psychologist decided to look around for a quick snack. He went over to the vending machine and was shocked to find a solitary box of Cracker Jacks inside.<p>

'_Cracker Jacks? In a vending machine?'_ he wondered. '_Never seen that before.'_

Intrigued, Sweets shoved some change into the machine and snatched up the box after it dropped down into the slot at the bottom. He waited until he got back in his office to open it. He sat down into the chair he used for therapy sessions and tore off the top and popped a handful of it into his mouth, enjoying the sweet, salty taste.

He soon reached the bottom of the box and he fished out the flat, paper package that held the prize inside. Sweets tore along the perforation and slowly unfolded the sleeve to find a paper pencil topper inside.

Sweets collapsed back in his chair and sighed. It was a flimsy pencil topper and the picture depicting a pair of mountaineers 'climbing' the sides of the pencil was crudely drawn with watery colors.

'_Was this the best they could come up with?' _the therapist wondered. '_A lame pencil topper? What kid is going to be excited about finding that at the bottom of his Cracker Jacks?'_

The psychologist was languidly flipping the paper between his finger tips when Booth walked into the room.

"Ok, so I was able to talk to that store owner and he said that…hey is that Cracker Jacks?" Booth asked.

"Yep," Sweets nodded. The agent sat down on the couch across from him and grabbed the box, digging out a few stray peanuts Sweets had missed.

"Parker loves this stuff," Booth said as he munched on the peanuts. "I got him some during that game we went to with Bones this last weekend."

"Yeah, it's good but look at this," Sweets said, leaning forward. "This was the prize inside: a paper pencil topper. I mean, really? What kid is going to want that? Lame."

"It is," Booth said as he inspected the paper that Sweets was showing him. "At least the prize in the bag I got Parker was one of those temporary tattoos. He seemed to have fun wearing that for a while. Still, considering how much those bags of Cracker Jacks cost at ball parks…."

"I know, right?" the psychologist replied. "You would think that they would try a little harder to make something a kid might actually enjoy."

Sweets flicked the paper onto the coffee table and picked on the lint on one of the chair's arms.

"I remember when I was a kid they would have stuff in them like miniature baseball cards or stickers," Sweets said. "I'd make my own mini-album to keep the cards in."

"I remember those cards too, but I just kept them in a box in a drawer," Booth replied. "Me and Jared would trade them with each other." Sweets nodded in response.

"My dad took me to a baseball game once. That's was the first time I ever got Cracker Jacks," he continued.

"Really? At a game?" the agent responded. "I guess I didn't picture you as the sports type." The psychologist shrugged.

"I didn't go to a lot of them, but I liked watching baseball," he said. "I'd follow all of the teams' stats and stuff."

"My dad took me to a couple of games too," Booth said quietly. "When I was very young. Whenever he found time to…whenever he found time."

Sweets nodded. He knew that Booth meant '_when he found time to stop drinking' _but he also knew that it didn't need to be said aloud. It was an understanding the both of them had.

"Anyway, that's when I got my first bag of Cracker Jacks," Booth continued. "And my first prize: a mini joke book. I kept it for years. Sometimes, I'd read the jokes in it to Jared and he would laugh as if they were the funniest things in the world. Pops sometimes would take me and Jared to a game too and we would share a bag. You know, he used to tell me about the really cool prizes that they used to have like little figures and mini pinball toys."

"Cool," Sweets said. "So way better than what they have now."

"Yeah. You know, Parker doesn't even look for the prize inside the bag whenever we get one. It's as if he already knows that it's going to be boring and pointless. He's just trying to avoid the peanuts."

"Hey, you can't eat the popcorn without the peanuts," Sweets exclaimed. "That's just…wrong."

"I know, right?" Booth said. "That's what I keep telling him."

"My dad would always make sure to have some peanuts with every bite of popcorn," Sweets added. "He said that it was the only way to get the full flavor. I..I used to count out the popcorn bits and the peanuts so that they would always be even whenever I ate it with him. He used to chuckle a little at that, but it was ok. He knew that I was just trying to eat it the same way he did."

Sweets fell silent while Booth watched him. The agent knew that in the back of his mind, Sweets was thinking about how much he missed his father, but he also knew that bringing it up would only push the psychologist into an even more somber place.

Instead, Booth stood up and patted Sweets on the shoulder.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go grab something at the Diner."

"What? Now?" Sweets said as he rose to his feet.

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" Booth replied. "You can't make a meal out of Cracker Jacks, even if you are twelve. Besides, I'm feeling kind of hungry, and Bones will probably be ready to eat by the time we swing by the lab."

"Ok, let's go," Sweets smirked back.

The two of them walked out of the office after Sweets threw the empty box away along with the pencil topper, after giving it one last disdainful look.

"You know another thing that's gone downhill?" Booth said as they walked down the hallway toward the elevator. "The prizes in cereal boxes. I mean, half the time, they don't even have a prize at all anymore. It's all just codes for things to get online."

"I know," Sweets said as he pushed the button for the elevator. "It's not like the time when I found this great whistle in my box of Cocoa Snaps."

"A whistle?" Booth smirked. "That's your idea of a prize?"

"Hey, it was a really cool looking whistle," Sweets pouted. "And it was mega loud."

"And how long ago did this happen? A couple of weeks ago?"

"I'll have you know that I normally eat my breakfasts at the Diner these days," Sweets retorted. "It's not like I'm still eating kids' cereals all the time."

"Maybe," Booth said as they got onto the elevator. "But right now, you are actually making me kind of glad that they don't put things like that into cereal boxes anymore."

Sweets made a show of shaking his head and rolling his eyes as the elevator doors closed.

But in the back of his mind, he made a mental note to ask Brennan about her favorite prize from a cereal box when they met up with her.


	2. Pieces

Author's Note: Not entirely sure where this chapter came from. I was listening to some music, and I suddenly decided to give this a try. Hopefully it works out...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Lives in the now: **Thanks. I agree that it's a little depressing to see how uninspired those prizes are now. It feels like a little part of my childhood is gone...Anyway, yeah, I've often thought that it's the details that show just how much Booth and Sweets have in common and thus, it's fun to find ways to explore that. :)

**DrHoneyChuckles: **Yeah, I don't have an account, but I do follow JFD's Twitter. He has some great tweets out there. :D And when I saw that one, I knew that I would just have to write something about it eventually...

**Charlotte Thornton: **Yeah, that's something I love on the show: how the little conversations can reveal so much about them and the things that they share. And yes, I remember (much like them) when Cracker Jack prizes were at least interesting and fun for at least brief periods of time...unlike nowadays, sadly...

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. I guess that will be a common thing among these snippets: they'll never be of just one flavor. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one as well.

**D: **I did get your review, thank you. :) I agree that the prizes were even cooler back in the 50s and 60s, having seen some people's collections of Cracker Jack prizes on the internet. Sometimes a tiny part of me thinks that maybe one or two of the people involved in making the newer prizes actually do want them to be fun...but I think they are overshadowed by those who are just too lazy to care these days...

Chapter Two—Pieces

"Lancelot, why don't you ever want to talk about work?"

Sweets looked up from his soup bowl and into the brown eyes of the woman sitting across from him at their diminutive dining table. Before that moment, they were both enjoying bowls of homemade soup and sandwiches while the intern went over her day at the Medico-Legal lab, working with Doctor Brennan. The psychologist had been listening attentively as he could, although he couldn't deny being somewhat distracted by some work of his own that had recently come up. The time had been going by pleasantly.

That is, until Daisy had blind-sided him with this question. Sweets choked down his latest mouthful of soup and cleared his throat.

"I talk about work," he insisted. "Remember last night? I was telling you about how Booth and I were talking to this guy whose brother had…."

"I'm not talking about the stuff you do with Doctor Brennan or Agent Booth," Daisy said, cutting him off. "I mean the stuff you do. That you do on your own." The therapist stirred his soup a little with his spoon.

"I…I guess I didn't think that you would find it very interesting, Daisy," he answered. "I mainly just spend time in my office. Besides, the therapy sessions I have with my patients are confidential, so I shouldn't talk to you about that anyway. So once you put that aside, there's not much to talk about, really."

"I know you can't talk to me about your patients," Daisy replied. "But why would you think that I wouldn't find your day interesting? Is it because of what Doctor Brennan has said about psychology?" The intern reached across the table and laid her hand onto one of his.

"Doctor Brennan simply does not have the benefit that I do of being able to spend so much time with you," she smiled. "If she did have so much time to talk to you about, she would be able to learn the same thing that I have: that psychology can be very interesting when seen through a brilliant perspective." Sweets grinned in response to her. They both ate a few more bites of their food, and the therapist was starting to think that the topic had played itself out.

That is, until Daisy started to speak again.

"You still haven't answered my question, Lancelot," she said. "Why don't you ever want to talk to me about your work?" You hardly ever do anymore."

Sweets sighed and finished up the last bites of his meal before standing up and starting to clear the table. Daisy rose and did the same, halting the discussion until they were both done and had moved to sit together on the couch in the front room. Sweets felt Daisy wrap her arms around him as she waited for him to find his words.

"I…It's not….It's not always easy for me to do," Sweets finally said. "Some of the stuff I do at work…" Daisy squeezed his hand.

"I know," she said. "You're so brave, but you're sensitive too. You see such horrible things…all that death and despair. I know that you can't just brush it aside."

Daisy looked up to see a pensive look deepening onto Sweets' features and she gently kissed his temple.

"Don't worry," she said. "All of that, that sensitive heart, that's part of the reason why I love you. And besides, I know how you feel. I see those things too…in the lab, working with Doctor Brennan. You just have to let it go, Lance."

"How Daisy?" Sweets asked, turning so he could face her. "How am I supposed to do that? I mean…how do you do that?"

The intern looked into her lap for a moment before raising her head.

"When I see a set of remains on the table, I see them as parts, as pieces of a larger question," she said. "Who was this person? What happened to them? What should be done now? Each bone is a piece of the answer. Each detail I learn from them is also a piece. Eventually, I can gather all the pieces in front of me, and the question will be solved."

Daisy went back to holding his hand, her eyes intense and serious.

"And after the question is solved, I put each piece away while I catalog the bones," she continued. "With each step, I let go of my thoughts and feelings as I go. It's not always easy, and sometimes it takes a while. But as long as I work through a piece at a time, eventually it will happen."

"I don't know if I can do that Daisy," Sweets frowned. "I mean, you study remains on a table. You have something tangible to work with. Me…I have to get inside a person's head, and sometimes…sometimes it's a place that I don't really want to go to. How can I let that go?"

"Even if it's in your mind, it's the same thing, isn't it?" she asked. "You look at evidence from a crime scene, you examine details from forensic reports, and you use those details to build a profile, right?"

"I suppose so," the psychologist replied.

"So, it's just a matter of taking each piece of that profile apart and putting them away somewhere," she said. "Take it apart so that it's no longer that horrible place, but just a collection of pieces that you don't need to sort through anymore."

Sweets let out a deep breath and fell back against the couch, closing his eyes.

"I…I'd like to give it a try," Sweets said, his eyes still closed. "But what if I can't? I just don't know if I can separate all of these things from each other."

"It won't be easy at first," she said. "I know that when I first started examining bones, I would always jump on the most obvious things, the things that I thought were more important. But over time, I learned to appreciate all the details, not just the ones that scream for my attention. Metaphorically speaking, of course."

Daisy leaned over and rested against Sweets, his arms pulling her close to him in response.

"Go ahead and try, Lancelot," she said. "Tell me about a case. It doesn't have to be one you're working on right now. Just pick something and try to finally put it to rest."

Sweets hesitated. Opening up and sharing those dark corners of his mind were things that he had never relished doing and that he usually worked hard to avoid. He couldn't deny being scared despite the reassurances that Daisy was giving him.

'_Just try…Even if it won't always happen or work…just try…'_

Sweets opened his eyes and slowly related a case to her that he had worked on a couple of years ago. It ended up taking hours before he got it all out, and he frequently found himself rambling in the details. But when it was over, he was surprised to feel a strange sort of detachment.

'_Is this what Daisy feels?' _he wondered. '_And…is this what I want to feel too?'_

"Feel any better?" she asked him with a smile, when he was done.

He wanted to be able to give her a real answer, to tell her everything.

But some pieces of his heart and mind needed to remain hidden….and Sweets rarely questioned if that could ever change.


	3. Questions

Author's Note: Next chapter. This is sort of an episode tag for The Hot Dog in the Competition.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

**D: **I tend to agree with you that if the writers are going to try to sell us on the idea of theirs being a relationship that will last, they will need to show more sides to it other than the physical and the comedic. Something along the lines of what we saw glimpses of in The Bones on the Blue Line, for example. I know that the Sweets Journal for the iPad is also an attempt to show us more sides to their relationship, but I have hopes that we will see more onscreen this season, especially given that it seems like the writers did try to portray Daisy in a more sympathetic light in this season's The Prince in the Plastic. In the meantime, I guess I can try to envision things the way I'd like them to go, anyway. :)

**Charlotte Thornton: **I agree with the idea that I think Daisy does try to help him as best she can, even if she doesn't always understand everything inside him. But I also do think that Sweets does keep things to himself...things that probably no one knows about to this day...

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. :) My main beef with the Swaisy relationship these days is that it really does not feel as fleshed out as it could be. I think if it were, it would be more enjoyable. Thus my attempts to add a little something more. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Chapter Three—Questions

After spending over fifteen minutes staring at her salad rather than eating it, Doctor Camille Saroyan began to wonder if she was going to have to give up on her dinner.

* * *

><p>It had been a harrowing day at work. It hadn't been entirely expected, but she had started out hoping that it could be avoided.<p>

The pathologist pushed her carrots around her plate with her fork. It had been no easy decision for her to hire Finn Abernathy as the newest intern at the lab. Even though he was easily one of the brightest students currently in Brennan's grad program, Cam knew ahead of time that Finn had a questionable past and had wondered if it was prudent to have him working around evidence in murder cases. But in the end, she decided that what was most important was having the most brilliant minds helping the Medico-Legal lab flourish in its pursuits.

Sadly, it turned out to be a decision fraught with difficulty from the start.

On one front were the visits from Caroline. Granted, the pathologist understood that she had an invested interest in making sure that the integrity of the lab was maintained, and the prosecutor did bring up some valid concerns about Finn's past. But after talking it over with Angela, who had researched into it and Brennan who had discussed the matter outright with the intern, she came to the conclusion that Finn would more than likely be an asset rather than a hindrance to their work.

Then there was the initial friction between Finn and Hodgins, and to top it off, the intern's brief decision to walk away from the job. All of it had been smoothed over by the end of the case, but still it had frayed Cam's nerves far more than she would have liked. She had begun to wonder if there would be any other personality issues in the future between Finn and members of the Jeffersonian.

Cam took a sip of water. She had felt confident about her decisions regarding Finn as she was leaving the Jeffersonian that day and had decided to treat herself to dinner at the Royal Diner, but now she couldn't help but be consumed by doubt. Doubt and by questions that consumed her thoughts.

"Doctor Saroyan…may I join you?"

The pathologist looked up to see Sweets standing next to her table. She immediately smiled in response.

"Doctor Sweets," she said. "Sure. Have a seat." The psychologist smiled back and sat down. A waitress stopped by and Sweets ordered a cup of coffee and a sandwich before turning his attention back toward Cam.

"Is something going on?" Sweets inquired. "Perhaps something at work?"

Cam sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She wasn't really shocked that Sweets had been able to detect her discomfort, and in the back of her mind, she theorized that part of the reason she invited him to join her was because she knew he would catch onto it eventually. Still, she had to admit that it was always a little unnerving that Sweets was usually able to sense what was on her mind as effortlessly as other people walk across a room.

"Yes, it's work," Cam sighed. "It's Finn. Our new intern."

"I heard about him," the psychologist nodded. "Apparently he is posed to be the next 'Doctor Brennan' within the field of forensic anthropology."

"Yes, he's brilliant," the pathologist agreed. "But it's not that simple."

"I know," Sweets murmured. "I talked to Angela at one point today. She gave me the basics of the situation."

"I want Finn to be a part of this lab," she continued. "I know that he will be a great asset to our team. But I just don't know if someone with such a dark history…I don't know if they can move past it. I mean, I know that Doctor Brennan and even Booth have a lot in their pasts too…but all that…I just don't think that kind of darkness existed within them, you know?"

"And yet I understand that you still plan to keep him as a part of the team?" Sweets questioned after the waitress dropped off his sandwich. "Something must be overriding your concerns about his past."

"It's…I'm sure he's a good kid," she sighed. "And Doctor Brennan agrees with me on this. And I don't want to think about a world where someone who had to face such horrible things has to suffer for the rest of their life just because of a mistake. It just doesn't…it doesn't seem right. Especially when it wasn't their fault that something bad happened to them."

"This isn't just about Finn, is it?" the psychologist asked after taking a large bite of his sandwich. The two of them ate in silence for a few moments while his words sank in. Eventually Sweets finished his sandwich and leaned toward her.

"Doctor Saroyan…I think you'll find that a single mistake is not going to stop Michelle from succeeding either," he said gently. "I know that right now, things might seem bad, but I think you will find that they will work out in the end. Michelle is a good person. You know that. So is Finn. The world will give them more chances, I'm sure." Cam finally started to smile and took a hearty bite of her salad.

"Sweets, thank you," she said warmly. "Thank you, for what you said and for…for everything." Sweets grinned back at her as he sipped his coffee.

"You're welcome, Doctor Saroyan," he said.

"I do hope that working here will help Finn find his way," Cam continued. "After everything he's been through, he deserves a chance at a fresh start. I just hope that the dark parts of his past don't overshadow his current life." Sweets stood up and placed some money onto the table that more than covered his share of the bill and the tip.

"They may not overshadow his life now," the psychologist said. "But they won't go away either….Good night, Doctor Saroyan."

Sweets then walked away as silently as he had arrived, leaving Cam with one nagging thought and a lingering question.

'_That sounded like more than his training talking…It sounded like…like the voice of experience.'_

'_And if that's the case…then what kind of dark past has he been carrying around all this time?'_


	4. Gas stations

Author's Note: Next chapter. This is sort of a missing scene/scene extension from The Twist in the Twister. Warning, this one is pure fluff and silliness. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Charlotte Thornton: **See that kind of surprised me about episode 7.02...that there weren't any comparisons between Sweets' dark past and Finn's. I was intrigued by Finn, but I'll have to see what I think after seeing more episodes with him in it...Either way though, I could see Sweets being one of the best equipped to relate to Finn's situation for a variety of reasons. I hope you enjoy this (long) snippet. :)

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. :) I agree that the Swaisy relationship needs more development in order to resonate better with the fans...Anyway, glad that you enjoyed the discussion with Cam. I kind of miss the two of them onscreen and hope that they will run into each other during an episode at some point. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Lives in the now: **Thank you. I'm glad that you enjoyed my take on Swaisy. I do wish that the writers would have moments like this on the show more often, myself. Anyway, I'm also glad that you enjoyed my chapter with Cam. As I said above, I miss having Sweets interact with her (or with most of the team actually) and hope that we see more of his insight with them this season.

**D:** Well while I am mainly guessing here, I am thinking (judging from what I've seen in canon) that only B&B know about it among the members of Team Jeffersonian. As for Daisy...well she would have had to have seen Sweets' scars by now given their *ahem* amorous relationship. Considering how long they were together (and are still together), I think Sweets would have mentioned something about it by now. As to just how much he has told her about the moment he got them...I waver back and forth as to how much he has said, partially because I think that he hasn't told hardly anyone at all about when he got them. But then again, I imagine that Daisy might be able to keep a secret somewhat since no one knew that Sweets had those scars in the first place until Brennan found out about them on her own...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well...

Chapter Four—Gas stations

Sweets sighed as he watched Booth give orders on his cell phone. He didn't have to hear what was being said to know that he and the agent were in for a long wait at this gas station.

* * *

><p>Their latest case had involved the death of a storm chaser, and right now Sweets and Booth were on the trail of the victim's missing "mini moho" which he had used when following tornadoes. Thankfully, the search had been straightforward since the Bureau had been able to track a vehicle that was certain to be it at a gas station in North Carolina.<p>

Their arrival at the gas station had been somewhat…awkward due to the fact that the "moho" was not exactly abandoned and was currently being used for something far different than chasing tornadoes.

After talking to the driver and the woman he had been with, Booth started to make arrangements to have the mobile home transported back to the Bureau and then to the Jeffersonian in order to see if either the forensic techs or the Medico-Legal lab staff could find anything that could give leads to the murderer. The driver and his companion ended up taking another car into a nearby town, leaving Sweets and Booth to wait with the mobile home until a team could come to collect it.

After Booth finished on his cell phone, the two of them stood around outside in silence and stared at the mobile home for several minutes.

"I'm hungry," Booth suddenly said. "Want to see if this place has anything edible?"

"Probably a long shot," Sweets shrugged. "But sure, we can try."

The two of them entered the gas station and walked down the narrow aisles that had shelves which were crowded with piles of items while a bored clerk watched them with drooping eyelids.

"Wow…how can people eat the stuff in here?" Sweets said as he surveyed their choices. "Most of it looks like it's been sitting here for a long time."

"Yeah, look at that box of macaroni and cheese," Booth said, pointing toward a dusty box on the shelf. "Parker gets that brand all the time, and I know that they changed the packing design from that one to a new one at least six months ago." The psychologist considered sweeping the dust off the box, but then thought better of it.

"Could you imagine working here and only having this stuff to choose from to eat during your lunch?" Sweets asked, sparing a sympathetic glance for the man behind the counter. "The only things that look new are the candy bars and bags of chips…I don't even want to know how long those hot dogs have been rotating in that machine…."

"Well most of the people who come in here are just paying for gas and maybe picking up something to drink," Booth replied. "They need candy, chips and stuff like that because a lot of people bring their kids along, and that's the kind of stuff that they like….Something I'm sure I don't need to tell you." Sweets rolled his eyes and inched away from the hot dog warmer while staring at the case containing paper cartons of nacho chips and cheese.

"I don't know if any kid could eat the stuff in there," the psychologist shuddered before moving along. "Oh look, taquitos. How brave are you feeling today?"

"Not that brave," Booth frowned. "Look here's some sandwiches; let's go with that."

"Do they have something besides ham and cheese?" Sweets asked.

"Well there is a lot of that," Booth said as he scanned the selection. "And not much else. Not unless you want an egg salad sandwich."

"Maybe," Sweets said. "Go ahead and pass me one." The agent picked up one of the black, plastic triangles but then hesitated right before handing it to Sweets.

"Nope, you can't have this one," Booth said, pulling it away. "It's only two days before its expiration date. How about ham and cheese?"

"Come on, Booth, it's probably ok," Sweets nearly whined. "I don't really want ham and cheese…Wait, what's that one toward the end on your side?"

"Turkey," Booth said, reaching for it. He looked it over and swiftly put it back. "Sorry Sweets, the seal on that one is broke. How about ham and cheese?"

"Booth," Sweets said, his eyes pleading. He knew that he could try to grab a sandwich for himself, but also figured that Booth could overpower him if the agent was determined enough, and right now, he was certain that Booth was plenty determined.

He stared at the rows of sandwiches in front of him before sighing, his shoulders slumping.

"Ham and cheese sounds good," the therapist said. "With a _big_ glass of water…."

* * *

><p>Once they had purchased their food, the two of them moved outside to eat. They walked over toward a set of picnic benches, and Sweets was about to sit down until he saw Booth climbing up to sit on the top of one of the tables. The therapist shrugged his shoulders and took off his suit jacket before climbing up to sit beside him. Booth opened up his container of sandwiches and pulled his phone out of his pocket.<p>

"The Bureau is trying to find out about the latest storm chaser activity around here, seeing if any of the regulars have criminal pasts or some connection to the victim," Booth said before taking a bite of sandwich.

"Makes sense," Sweets said. "If someone wanted that mobile home, they might be willing to kill to get it."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that," Booth said. "A lot of these guys probably have their own set-ups, right? Why would they need to steal Braley's?"

"Maybe someone was looking to sell it?" Sweets offered.

"Maybe," Booth said, taking a sip of his pop. "His brother did say that it was worth a lot…But, I don't know. Looking at it, I'd say that you'd almost have to know something about meteorology or storm chasing in order to know its real value."

"So we're back to the idea that a fellow storm chaser might have killed him," Sweets said. "But why?"

"Hopefully the Bureau can give us a lead on that," Booth said. The sound of cars approaching caught their attention and Booth got up to greet them. The agent conferred with the forensic techs for a few moments before they began the process of getting the mobile home ready to transport while checking it over for evidence at the scene. The operation took little time and soon they were on their way, and Booth rejoined Sweets at the picnic table.

They ate in silence, Sweets frequently taking large sips of water in between bites to help wash down the spongy bread, until Booth heard his phone ping. The agent read the latest messages over while taking a long gulp from his drink.

He then told Sweets about the film contract from the National Science Federation and the competition between both the victim and another storm chaser to secure the half million dollar reward. During the conversation, Sweets found himself frustrated that he had lost the ability to whistle.

'_Stupid ham and cheese,' _he thought as he slurped down some water. '_It's not even what I wanted in the first place.' _

He watched Booth start to eat his sandwiches again before deciding that there was one topic of conversation that was far more pressing than the case or even their recent adventure into the world of gas station food.

"Why are you lying to Doctor Brennan?" Sweets asked. "You told her that a team was going to North Carolina…that's us."

Sweets then listened as Booth explained how he wanted to keep Brennan safe from the storms, not surprised at the agent's rationale given Booth's tendency to want to protect those close to him.

"Of course she's going to think that I'm, you know, overly protective," Booth said in conclusion before taking another bite of food.

"Aren't you though?" Sweets asked. Booth sighed, and Sweets had a feeling about what was coming, but decided to press on.

"Ok look, I'm just saying, Doctor Brennan is an adult," Sweets continued. "She's your partner both personally and professionally. While it's understandable…."

Sweets heard the phone ringing and he knew that the battle was lost, especially when Booth told him that they had found one of the storm chasers who they wanted to talk to, Antonia Lawrence. Conceding defeat, he decided to be happy that he was able to whistle again after having a bunch of water.

They gathered up the food to finish in the car on the way to the address given, when Sweets suddenly realized something.

"Uh Booth, I need to run to the restroom before we go," the psychologist said after he put his things into the SUV. Booth started to grin and Sweets knew that that did not mean anything good.

"Ok Sweets, I'll wait here," the agent said as he got into the car. "The sign said something about a key. I imagine the guy behind the counter has it."

Sweets froze when he heard those words. A bathroom key at a gas station was frequently a signpost to a space that was cleaned far less frequently than it should be. He briefly contemplated trying to see if he could wait, but all the water that he had drank to wash down his ham and cheese sandwich was making that an impossible option.

Sweets inwardly cursed his sandwich yet again and slowly walked back into the gas station, praying every step of the way that the guy was fastidious about cleaning despite his overly laid back appearance.

* * *

><p>Shortly thereafter, they were back on the road, speeding toward the address given. Sweets thought about bringing up Booth's lie to Brennan again, but decided that he would need to wait for a more opportune time to do it.<p>

Instead, the psychologist leaned back in his seat and watched the sky outside his window. He tried to distract himself with the case or even with the opera that he and Daisy were planning to see, but found himself continuing to stare at the dark clouds which were starting to blot out the sunlight. Booth glanced over at him.

"Have you ever seen a tornado before, Sweets?" Booth asked. The psychologist shook his head.

"No, not really," he said. "I've seen footage of them, and a few times when I was growing up some would touch down not too far from where we lived. But no…I never…." Sweets shook his head and continued to look out the window.

"Booth, there _are_ a lot of storms around here," Sweets said quietly. "You think that…that maybe that….?"

"Hey look no, there's nothing to worry about, all right?" Booth interrupted. "We'll just talk to Toni Lawrence at whatever rest stop she's at, maybe do some asking around with the crew, but that's it. It's not like we'll be chasing storms too." Sweets nodded, trying to work up a smile while turning to face forward. Booth then grinned, pleased that he had managed to keep the mood light.

"In fact, we probably won't even see a major storm," Booth continued. "It'll just be a routine round of questioning. You'll see."


	5. Errands

Author's Note: Next chapter. This one takes place about a day or so after the events in The Twist in the Twister. And just so you'll know now, this is another venture into goofiness. :)

Extra note: For those of you who do not have iPads (or don't check out certain websites) there is this app available for Bones which includes an online "journal" for Sweets where he talks about the cases from his POV or about other stuff he's doing off-screen during the episodes. In the one for this episode, he mentions attending an opera with Daisy and seeing the _The Barber of Seville_.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you again to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated. :)

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. Having actually worked in a gas station for a brief period of time, I can relate to the difficulty of finding edible food in one. :) The scenes with Booth and Sweets just hanging out in that episode were among my favorites, so it was fun to extend them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this snippet as well.

**CauseAscene: **Thank you. I'll admit that writing these is a bit of an experiment for me because, like you, I prefer longer works...thus why even my one-shots are long in comparison to the norm. :D But still, I like having the chance to play around with my normal style, and I hope that you continue to enjoy these snippets.

**Super Ario: **Yeah, the surest way to have something happen is to insist that it won't in the world of Bones (or in many TV/movie worlds for that matter). :) The idea of Booth screening Sweets' food made sense to me given the high tide of over-protectiveness that Booth was exhibiting in that episode. But I also enjoy seeing "big brother Booth" come out as well. :)

**Charlotte Thornton: **I'm actually with you on this. I find egg salad sandwiches unappealing in the best of times...one can only imagine what you'd be getting into at a gas station. :D And yes, as I mentioned elsewhere, I love scenes of Booth and Sweets just being around each other, being themselves. It's very endearing...and part of the reason why this chapter was born...

**D: **I know, right? Whenever I hear someone on-screen insist that certain things will "never happen" I just want to smack them upside the head and say "of course they will now...now that you've said that." :) And yeah, that gas station looked like a bit of a hole in the wall kind of place...so Booth and Sweets should probably be grateful that they have such strong constitutions. :)

**Phosphorescent: **Thank you. "Missing scenes" fics are among my favorite to write and read, so it was fun to fill in the spaces of that episode. And I have to admit that the image of Booth snatching those sandwiches away from Sweets as a way to "protect" him still makes me smile. :)

**Lives in the now: **Thank you for the review. I love the show, but we get so little time to spend with our favorite characters each episode. Thus, it's a joy for me to spend that extra time with them in fic. I hope you enjoy this snippet as well.

Chapter Five—Errands

Sweets hummed as he put the finishing touches on the last report on his desk, and after hitting the "send" button, he leaned back in his chair.

Last night he had gone to the opera with Daisy and had seen _The Barber of Seville_. He wasn't sure if he would like it and was worried that he wouldn't be able to understand it, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that he enjoyed himself immensely.

The thing that had stayed with him the most though was the music. Sweets had loved music since he was a child playing classical pieces on the piano. His love of music had taken many forms, including a death metal stage that he never had really let go of, and now he had found a new way to enjoy it.

Sweets stopped humming and stretched. It was the weekend, but the psychologist had still had a couple of reports to finish, so he decided to come in for a couple of hours in the morning. After a quick cup of coffee and a shower, he threw on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt and took the subway over to the Hoover Building. Now his work was done, and he was trying to figure out what he wanted to do next.

'_Daisy said that she's going to be at the Jeffersonian for most of the afternoon…So I guess I'm on my own,' _he pondered.

Sweets stood up and turned off his computer and stretched again, raising his arms toward the ceiling. It was rare for him to be left with nothing to do and by himself, and he found that he was at a loss to know what he wanted to do.

His stomach suddenly growled and Sweets took it as a sign of what he might want to attend to first. There were several restaurants that were only a couple blocks away from where he was now.

'_It's a nice day,' _the psychologist told himself as he pulled on the light jacket he had worn on the way in. '_A walk and a meal might be good.'_

Humming again, Sweets opened the door and started to walk out…and ended up running right into Booth.

"Hey Sweets, watch where you're going," Booth grumbled. The agent then blinked, surprised. He wasn't used to seeing the psychologist in casual wear at the office.

"Sorry," Sweets said, sheepishly. "I was just getting ready to…."

"How about lunch?" Booth interrupted. "I'm done here, and Bones is spending the day with Angela and Hodgins and their baby while I'm stuck with a bunch of errands. There's a new Chinese place I've been wanting to try. And hey, I'll buy."

Now it was Sweets' turn to be surprised. Recently, he had been unable to shake the feeling that Booth was avoiding him somewhat as a preventative measure against prying. The last thing Sweets had expected was an invitation for lunch.

"Sure, sounds great," the therapist smiled.

"Great," Booth grinned as he patted Sweets' shoulder. "But first we needed to finish up this list of chores that Bones gave me this morning."

He then guided Sweets down the hallway, and the psychologist could not stop thinking about how Booth had used the word "we" in relation to those errands.

* * *

><p>"Look Sweets, we don't need that. All Bones wanted me to get is some soap for the dishwasher," Booth protested. The two of them were standing in an aisle in a supermarket staring at the rows of boxes of dishwasher soap.<p>

"Soap is not always enough," Sweets insisted as he held a bottle in each hand. "You need to use this wash booster and this dishwasher cleaner every once in a while. Trust me on this."

"I've just been using soap ever since I moved into that place," Booth argued. "It's been fine."

"Have you looked inside your dishwasher recently?" Sweets said. "Who knows how much filth is trapped in there?"

"Filth? It's not like I'm putting my dirty laundry and my shoes in there, Sweets," Booth groaned. "You know, we do eat the stuff that's stuck on those plates."

"Yeah, and imagine months and years worth of bits of that food trapped in there," Sweets added. "Let me guess, often Doctor Brennan spends time scraping at the dishes after they come out. Am I wrong?" Booth glared at him before snatching both bottles from the psychologist's hands and shoving them into the basket with the dish soap.

"Let's get out of here before you have me buying stuff to clean off the toothbrush holder," the agent said, walking briskly.

"I don't think they sell anything like that," Sweets said as he tried to keep pace with him. "Although, I do know about something that could help if you think it needs cleaning…."

* * *

><p>"So withdraw or deposit?" Booth asked the psychologist as they watched another person walk over to the counters.<p>

Presently, the two of them were standing in the middle of a long line of people, all of them having waited until the last moment to visit the bank before it closed for the day. While they waited, Booth and Sweets had made a game of using their skills to see if they could guess what each person in front of them would do once they made it over to one of the tellers.

"Hmmm, I'm going to go with deposit on this one," Sweets said after a moment of consideration.

"Why deposit?" Booth asked.

"Well, she keeps looking around, as if to gauge her surroundings," Sweets replied. "She's probably nervous that someone might take the money that she has on her or that she might lose it. Also, her hands keep moving to cover the opening of her purse, as if to protect it. Something someone might do if they had something valuable inside."

"Uh-uh, you're wrong on this one," Booth said, shaking his head. "She's pulling money out."

"What?"

"Look at those flyers that she's got jammed into that purse," Booth said. "She keeps having to stuff them back down because she has so many. Plus, there's the look on her face. That's the look of someone who doesn't want to get caught. My guess is that she's going on a shopping spree and she doesn't want anyone to know about it."

Just then they watched as the women handed the teller a slip of paper and a card. A few seconds later, the teller started to count out some money, placing it in front of the woman as he did so.

"I knew it," the agent grinned triumphantly. "That's two in a row that you've missed Sweets."

"Yeah, but I got the first two right," Sweets pointed out. "So right now, we're even…and that'll change soon enough." Booth's grin grew.

"How about we make this more interesting?" the agent said. "Whoever gets the next one right gets to make the other one carry all the dry cleaning to the car. Deal?"

"You're on," Sweets smiled.

* * *

><p>A while later, Booth was driving down the road, having picked up all of his and Brennan's dry cleaning, a smile plastered on his face.<p>

"Geez Booth, you didn't have to park that far from the building," Sweets complained, rubbing his shoulder. He had been tempted to ask Booth why he waited until there was a mountain of clothes to be taken care of before going to the dry cleaners, but had held his tongue, lest Booth do more than just make him carry around a huge stack of suits and dresses.

"Sorry Sweets," the agent chortled. "But you didn't really want to make those little old ladies or that guy minding those three kids park in the middle of nowhere, did you?"

"Well no…."

"Good," Booth said. Sweets was about to say more when his stomach growled loudly again.

"Ok, ok. We'll head over to the restaurant now," Booth responded.

"Thank you," Sweets said, grateful. For a couple of moments they rode in silence and then Booth pulled out a CD and inserted it into his car's stereo. Seconds later, familiar music filled the car.

"Hey…that's from _The Barber of Seville_," Sweets said.

"It is," Booth nodded. "These are some of my favorite parts." They listened quietly for a bit before Booth spoke again.

"Did you enjoy it? Going to the opera with Daisy?" he asked.

"Yeah, I did," Sweets nodded. "It was beautiful, just like you said….but…I still didn't understand it. I keep feeling like I missed something."

"You're over thinking this again, Sweets," Booth said. "There is nothing wrong with appreciating a thing of beauty even if you don't get every nuance of it."

"I suppose not," Sweets said before turning to stare out the window.

"Sweets?"

"The tornado…the one we saw when we were talking to those storm chasers," Sweets blurted out.

"Ok, yeah," Booth said, confused. "What about it?" The psychologist shook his head.

"I…for a few seconds there…I just couldn't move," Sweets said, his voice growing soft. "I…I was scared."

"Yeah, maybe, but you kept it together, right?" Booth said. "You got everyone into the storm cellar and everything was fine."

"I still don't know how I was able to do that," Sweets continued. "It's like I wasn't even thinking, just reacting, while all that was going on. And while we were all sitting down there, huddled in that cellar…I just kept thinking about how we could have gotten killed, sucked up into that tornado like the victim was."

Sweets shuddered, and Booth was dismayed to see it and the somber expression that was now on the therapist's face.

"Last night…I dreamed that it got us," Sweets said. "Got me. I was yanked into the swirling darkness…unable to breathe, or think…or get away…."

"Listen Sweets, so you were unnerved by that tornado," Booth replied. "So what? You're not one of those crazy storm chasers. You have the sense to be afraid of something that could kill you. That's not a bad thing. But even so, the fact that you were afraid was not what was important in that situation. What was important was that you acted quickly and decisively. You made sure that everyone is safe, and that's all that matters."

Sweets looked over at Booth, and when they stopped at a light, the agent made sure to look him in the eye.

"That is why I was eventually ok with you getting a gun and why you get to go into the field with me," Booth said. "Because I know that you have it in you to act as you need to, even when you are afraid."

Sweets' face lit up with a grin, and Booth could not help but smile in response.

"Thanks Booth," the therapist beamed.

"You're welcome," Booth said, turning his focus back on the road. "Aha, here we are. Time to eat."

The agent parked his car, and after they got out, Booth reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. After searching around for a few seconds, he pulled out a slip of paper.

"Hey Sweets, make sure that your order is somewhere between menu item number five and number fifteen," Booth told him. "Otherwise this coupon won't be valid."

"Wait a minute," Sweets said as he caught a glance at the coupon. "'Buy one, get one free'? That's what you meant when you said that you'd buy?"

"Hey, you're not paying for your meal, so what's the big deal?" Booth smirked. "Come on, I'm starving."

Sweets laughed and followed Booth inside, the two of them already starting to banter over the importance of semantics.


	6. Thunder Storms

Author's Note: No real reason behind this one. I was just having a gloomy day and was inspired to write something to cheer me up. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**D: **I am also hoping that future episodes/seasons will continue to explore the emerging and ever closer dynamic that is developing between these two. It is very endearing and adds a lot to both of their characters, I think.

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. It was fun to come up with scenes that were "Bones-y" in regards to these two. :) I hope you enjoy this little snippet as well.

**Lives in the now: **Yes, the bank game is something me and my mom would do too. :) And with the two of them being big on studying people, I could see them doing it too.

**Charlotte Thornton: **Thank you. I also love to picture all of the little everyday things being done with them together, so I'll admit that it's fun to imagine them in fic. :)

Chapter Six—Thunder Storms

Sweets never cared much for thunder storms.

It wasn't as if he was scared of them or anything like that. Even as a child, rain, cracks of thunder, or flashes of lightening were not something that drove him under his bedcovers, shaking with fear. He had too many other more tangible and immediate fears as a child to let something as commonplace as a storm to scare him. It was more like they depressed him. The grey and then black skies, the lack of people enjoying the outside, the way that everything could blend into formless waves of color all planted a seed of melancholy within him whenever he saw it rain. As he grew older, he did not grow any more fond of them, even though he understood the essential need for rain once in a while. Rain became something that messed up his suits, ruined his papers, and could even destroy his leisure time.

Like today unfortunately.

He had taken the day off having worked the last ten in a row and had decided to treat himself to lunch at his favorite Thai restaurant. He had thought about inviting someone to go with him, but he knew that Daisy was going to be busy catching up on work that Brennan had assigned to her and that the rest of his friends had their own plans. It had been disappointing, but Sweets was determined to try to enjoy himself on his own.

While riding the subway downtown on the way over there, however, the grey clouds that had loomed overhead went from being a benign annoyance to an ominous threat as rain sprinkled downward. Almost as soon as he got off the subway, the rain had become a torrential downfall, and Sweets was stuck trying to find cover under the awnings of nearby shops which dotted the streets.

For a moment, Sweets considered abandoning this trip, but then his stomach rumbled and he hated the thought of just running back home. He saw some taxis race down the street and decided that it would be worth it to go ahead and try to catch one. He walked over to the curb, his sneakers slapping against the puddles that had already formed, and tried to flag a driver down.

His efforts proved to be fruitless, however, as he was unable to get a single taxi to stop for him. His clothes were soon soaked and to make matters worse, one taxi hydroplaned on a giant pool of water that had gathered near the curb. The result was a large splash of water that thoroughly drenched him.

Sweets closed his hands into fists and shoved them into his pockets as he started to walk down the sidewalks. Normally, he tried to reason people's actions away psychologically whenever he felt slighted or saddened by someone else's callousness to him. But on a day like today, it was all too tempting to simply give into the urge to sulk and allow the gloom inside him to take over.

'_Fine, who cares?'_ he told himself. '_I didn't really want to get Thai today anyway. I'll just walk until I find somewhere else to eat.'_

Sweets shook his head as he started to shiver. He knew that he was being childish right now with his refusal to get out of the rain, but he couldn't help himself. In a moment of clarity, he reached into his pocket to get out his cell phone so that he could call Daisy to pick him up.

And then he realized that he had forgotten to pick it up from his nightstand.

Sweets cursed quietly to himself and continued to walk, his pace slowing down and becoming more deliberate. He couldn't think of how the day could get any worse and had decided to surrender any hope of things improving.

'_It's just weather,' _he grimaced as he walked along. '_I shouldn't let things like rain, forgetting my cell phone and missing out on a chance to eat at a restaurant affect me so much.'_

'_I can maintain my locus of control. I don't have to let outside events dictate my mood.'_

'_Why is all of this bothering me so much?'_

Drops of rain dripped down his nose and made him have to blink frequently in order to keep the water out of his eyes. Sweets wished he understood why he was prone to these moments of melancholy, but in all the years that he had spent thinking about it, he hadn't been able to find a satisfactory answer. All he knew right now is that he wished that he was back home with his parents, even though he knew that that was impossible.

But more than anything else, he wanted to stop feeling alone.

"Sweets? Hey Sweets what are you doing?"

The psychologist looked up and was shocked to find Booth's SUV pulling up to the curb beside him. The passenger side window had been rolled down and Sweets could see Brennan sitting next to the agent.

"You got caught out in this rain?" Booth shouted to him. "Where's your car? Bones and I can drive you to it."

"I didn't drive," Sweets said, his voice coming out in a stutter as he shivered again.

"Booth, we can't leave Sweets out in this weather," Brennan said. "While there is no direction correlation between lower temperatures, damp weather and illness, he probably should…."

"Yeah, I get it, Bones," Booth said as he hit a button on the console beside him. "Come on Sweets, I unlocked the back door. Go ahead and get in."

The psychologist nodded and silently complied. Once he was inside he drew his arms up to his chest and huddled downward, his head drooping.

"Sweets, are you cold?" Brennan asked, concern seeping into her voice. "We can turn on the heater for you."

"Yes please," Sweets mumbled, not looking up. Soon hot air started to waft back his way and his shivering lessened.

"What were you doing out in this weather anyway?" Booth asked him. Sweets shook his head. He didn't really want to answer Booth because, right now, his stubborn refusal to seek shelter seemed foolish. He hoped that remaining quiet would encourage Booth to drop the subject.

His silence, however, had the effect of causing the two people in the front seats to worry. Booth and Brennan gave each other a series of glances before Brennan spoke again.

"Booth and I were going back to my place and planned on ordering take-out," she said. "Why don't you come with us? You can get something to eat and your clothes would have a chance to dry." Sweets shook his head.

"You don't have to…."

"Come on, Sweets," Booth said as he continued on toward Brennan's apartment. "You can't keep wandering around in those wet clothes. Besides, you could probably use something to eat by now anyway."

* * *

><p>About twenty minutes later, Sweets was curled up under a blanket on the couch, a towel draped over his head. Booth had offered him an old sweatshirt and sweatpants of his to change into while his clothes dried, and while they were a couple of sizes too big, they were comfortable and far warmer than what Sweets had been wearing. While he had changed, Booth and Brennan had made a place for him on the couch and called for takeout. By the time he was finished getting out of his wet clothes, Booth and Brennan were snuggled up together on the loveseat.<p>

"Thanks for letting me do this," Sweets said, rubbing the towel against his damp curls. "But I can just go after my clothes…."

"It will take awhile for your stuff to get dry, so why don't you just settle in?" Booth said. "Besides, Bones and I already ordered food for the three of us. No point in leaving until you get something to eat, right?"

"I guess not," Sweets said, a trace of a smile finally appearing on his face. Booth and Brennan smiled in response.

"Ok then," Booth grinned as he reached over for the remote. "Why don't we flip through the channels for a few minutes."

"I never understand why you do that," Brennan said. "You never stay on a channel long enough to make an informed decision on what program to watch."

"That's sort of the point, Bones," Booth said. "To just keep flipping around."

"But isn't the original intent to find something worthwhile to watch?" she asked. "Why else would you engage in such a repetitive and meaningless activity?"

Sweets' smile grew as he sank into the couch and listened to the two of them bicker while the channels flickered in and out. The conversation and the channel surfing continued even after the food had been delivered and they were all partaking from their meal from a sea of paper cartons.

He couldn't really explain it, but something about being here with them, warm and well fed, gave him a comfortable secure feeling that he found soothing. He barely realized it when he was starting to get drowsy and wasn't fully aware when he plopped over to his side and fell asleep on the couch.

But Brennan and Booth both noticed and enjoyed it, choosing to leave him alone to sleep while they enjoyed the rest of the afternoon.


	7. Assurances

Author's Note: Next snippet. There's no exact timeline for this one, other than it taking place some time after The Crack in the Code.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

**Lives in the now: **Yeah, that familial aspect of B&B and Sweets' relationship always appeals to me, I must admit. If anything, it seems like that bond is only increasing in this season. It'll be interesting to see what happens after Brennan has her baby. And yes, I imagine that they ordered Thai as well. :)

**Charlotte Thornton: **Thank you. I agree that we let our emotions overwhelm us and make ourselves a little more miserable than we need to be. In those situations, it seems like all that is needed is a friendly reminder from someone who cares that it doesn't need to be that way...

**D: **Oh I wish that HH did read fanfic at times. If he ever did, I'd want him to read any of my fic that deals with Sweets' past so that we can finally get some resolution to that whole part of Sweets' character. :) Putting that aside, I still hold out hope that this is the direction that the writers are moving with the B&B&S relationship. Time will tell if I've tapped into their vibe or not...:)

Chapter Seven—Assurances

"…talk to me, Sweets," Booth said, urgency in his voice. "Stay awake…."

* * *

><p>The evening had started out in a routine way. Booth was going out to interview the wife of the victim in his latest homicide case. At the last minute, he decided to take Sweets along with him so as to get a better read on the widow and anything she might know about why her husband had been found dead at an abandoned construction site. On the way over there, the two of them had talked about the case briefly before lapsing into a bickering session over whether or not there ever is a reason to re-make a movie.<p>

"I mean, if you've already done it, why do it again?" Booth argued. "Why not just enjoy a classic for what it is?"

"Well yeah, some movies probably shouldn't be tampered with," Sweets conceded. "But there are some movies that would really benefit from having a remake. Especially old sci-fi films."

"What's wrong with the old sci-fi films?" Booth grumbled. "If they were good enough to entertain people back then, they are good enough for people now."

"But think about what we can do with them now," Sweets insisted. "All the great CGI effects and enhanced filming techniques. I mean, come on, are you really saying that you wouldn't love to see some old film you grew up with updated with the latest and coolest special effects?"

The argument continued on until a crackle of static and then a voice from Booth's radio halted the conversation. There was an urgent call for assistance in an armed robbery at a nearby credit union, and Booth quickly realized that the two of them were only seconds away from the given location. He then responded to the dispatch and turned on his siren as he headed over there. As his mind prepared itself for what was sure to be an intense situation, he suddenly remembered that Sweets was in the car with him.

"Listen, when we get there, I want you to just stay in the car, you got that?" Booth told him. "Let me handle this."

"But Booth, I have a sidearm," Sweets reminded him. "I could…."

"No," Booth growled. "You are not ready for this kind of situation, you understand me? So just stay in the car, keep your head down, and watch for backup."

Sweets did not say anything more as Booth sped to the location given. As they arrived, they could see people rushing out of the building with their arms raised and their hands waving about. Booth swung his SUV over to the side and parked, nearly jumping out after it came to a complete stop. Seconds later, a man with a gun burst out into the street.

"FBI, drop the weapon and put your hands in the air," Booth yelled at him, his gun already aimed and posed to fire.

The man let out an inarticulate yell, his eyes wild, and pointed his gun at the agent. Booth immediately responded by pulling the trigger, and the man went down with a bullet wound to the chest. Seconds later, a woman came running out, screaming and crying hysterically.

"Please, someone help me please," she cried out. Booth lowered his weapon and headed over to her. He tried to drag her to safety, but the woman resisted, sobbing.

"No…you don't understand," she wailed. "We need to get Sacha. Oh Sacha…."

"Who's Sacha?" Booth asked as he tried to pull her along.

"My baby," she said, tears streaming down her face. "Please we have to get Sacha."

"We'll get her. We'll get her, I promise," Booth said forcefully. "But right now, you need to…."

"Agent Booth!"

Booth only had seconds to look up to see Sweets running toward him. He opened his mouth to yell at the psychologist for getting out of the car, but was stopped by the sound of a gun cocking. He was about to turn toward the sound when Sweets ran into him and the woman fell to the ground. Booth heard the sound of a bullet firing, and he scrambled back up to his feet.

A second gunman had appeared, and Booth fired back, taking him out with a single bullet to the head. Booth then saw police cars driving up and officers running into the bank.

"Sweets, I told you to…." Booth said as he turned back toward the psychologist but the words froze on his tongue when he saw that Sweets was still lying on the ground.

Booth dropped down onto his knees beside Sweets and turned him over to see a bullet wound in his abdomen, blood spreading all over his shirt. The therapist's eyes were closed and he did not respond to Booth turning him over onto his back. Booth reached down and started to put pressure on the wound. He then faintly heard the sound of the woman scrambling away and someone approaching him and asking about the situation.

"We need an ambulance here now," Booth yelled at the voice behind him. The agent could hear the officer behind him call for help, but he couldn't take his eyes away from Sweets' still form.

"Come on, Sweets," Booth said. "Stay with me, all right? Help is coming, so just breathe, ok?"

Sweets' eyelids began to move and soon his eyes slowly cracked open.

"Booth," he gasped as he started to squirm.

"No, no don't do that," Booth said, tightening his hold. "Stay still. I know it hurts, but I need to keep the pressure on your wound."

In that moment, Booth thought back to the last time he had had to do this. When Vincent Nigel-Murray lying on the lab floor, bleeding to death from a gunshot. Just like then, blood seeped all over his hands, staining them scarlet while someone struggled to breathe, to live, on the ground in front of him.

It was then that Booth began to panic. It had been bad enough when it was Vincent. He did not want to think about history repeating itself with Sweets.

'_Why didn't he stay in the car?' _Booth asked himself. '_Or at the very least, just use his gun instead?'_

"_This way, I'll have your back, Agent Booth."_

Booth remembered Sweets saying that just as he realized that the psychologist had been shot trying to get him out of the line of fire. At the time, he hadn't taken the notion of him backing him up that way seriously, but now he was starting to wish that Sweets had never gotten such an idea into his head.

"Booth…please…."Sweets whispered. "Hurts…."

"I know, I know," Booth said, his voice softening. "I know it does, but I need to do this, ok? Just try to relax and breathe." The agent felt tears prick at his eyes, but he made sure not to let them fall.

"Hey listen, after you get taken care of, you can stay at Bones' and my place for a couple of days while you rest and get better," Booth said. "I know you haven't been over since we got it all finished. It…it looks great. Wendell, he really helped out a lot. And…and you can just hang out and watch some movies or sleep or whatever you want. Whatever you want, Sweets. Hey, and if she's up for it, I'll even ask Bones to make her amazing mac and cheese for you one night. I mean, you've got to try it, Sweets. And, and Bones, she's been saying about how she wants to see you and all…."

Booth kept babbling out promises and plans. It was all done with the unspoken hope that it would be enough to convince Sweets to hold on and not die right here on this patch of asphalt.

But also as a way to try to hold back the grief and guilt he felt at seeing Sweets bleeding, his life ebbing away.

The psychologist smiled, his eyes eerily content, before starting to cough. His eyes then began to roll back into his head.

"No!" Booth insisted. "Talk to me, Sweets. Stay awake. I need you to stay awake."

Sweets' body jerked as he moaned and gasped again. Booth made sure that the psychologist did not move away from him, but noticed that Sweets' struggles had grown substantially weaker.

"Not your fault," Sweets croaked out.

"What?" Booth asked, the sound of sirens drowning the psychologist's voice out. Sweets opened his eyes and looked straight into Booth's.

"What happened…" he said, his voice strained with pain. "Not…your fault, Booth…I….I…tell Daisy that…."

"No listen, if you have anything to tell Daisy, you're doing it yourself, you got that?" Booth said. "Are you listening to me, Sweets? You're staying right here, with us. We need you here."

Suddenly Booth felt hands pulling him away from Sweets. For a second, he tried to resist them, but he then realized that they were EMTs here to tend to the psychologist. Booth watched as they administered to him and started to wring his hands together. He found that they were sticky with blood. Sweets' blood.

Moments later, they had the therapist on a stretcher and were loading him into an ambulance. Booth had wanted to ride with them, but the EMTs told him that it wasn't going to be possible, and he had to be satisfied with being given the name of the hospital that they were going to.

"The bullet wound is serious, but doesn't look fatal," one of the EMTs assured Booth as he rushed away. "He should be ok."

Booth nodded mutely and watched the ambulance speed away a moment later. A part of him figured that he should feel some comfort at those kinds of assurances.

But right now, all of the assurances in the world wouldn't be able to fill the hole Booth felt growing inside him.

* * *

><p><strong><span>End Note<span>**: When I originally wrote this, I figured that it could stand on its own as a single snippet. But looking at it now, I think I could also write a second half to it. So I think I will leave it up to my readers: leave it as is or write another snippet finish it off? Let me know what you would like me to do in a review. If there is enough interest, I'll put up a sequel later this week...


	8. Assurances, part 2

Author's Note: Next chapter. I was going to have this end in another way, but this is what came out of me instead. Looking back on it, I suppose I should have just made this a one or two shot. But oh well. :P I am sorry this was late and I will post one last part this week to finish this storyline off.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**Seletua: **Yeah, I suppose I should have known better than to just leave it at that. :) Thank you though for your reviews both now and in the past. I hope you enjoy how I (eventually) finish this off...

**D: **Don't worry, I don't tend to go that dark, despite my love of angst. :) But yes, I can imagine that the next conversation that Booth and Sweets have over this whole thing is going to be an interesting one...

**Lives in the now: **Thank you. And see, I agree that this could come up within canon: Booth still not being comfortable with Sweets being armed and Sweets struggling with using his gun. Thus why I wanted to get a taste of exploring that here. I hope you enjoy how I decided to continue this...

**Shanabear: **Hee, ok here is more. And you will get some answers to your questions in this chapter, I think.

**Charlotte Thornton: **Thank you for the review. I can easily picture Booth not wanting to seriously contemplate losing someone so close to him, even when faced with something like this, thus I could see him trying to "bargin" his way out of such a loss. I hope you enjoy this update as well.

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. I've heard that finals are stressful for all involved, so I'm not surprised. I am glad that you enjoyed both my fluffier rainstorm moment and this darker one as well. As you will see, we will be getting some more of this one here both now and in the next chapter...

Chapter Eight—Assurances—part 2

Booth paced back and forth in the hospital waiting room. He had called Brennan and Cam to let everyone know what was going on and was waiting for them to show up along with impatiently waiting to hear anything from the doctors. The last word he had gotten was that Sweets had lost a lot of blood, but was stable.

But Booth knew how quickly that could change and hated this situation of not knowing and not being able to do anything.

"Booth!"

The agent turned to see Brennan walking toward him, her face ashen. Her eyes kept darting between his face and the rest of him, and at first Booth wondered why she was doing that until he remembered how his shirt and sleeves had been stained with Sweets' blood.

"Do…have you heard anything?" she asked as she drew closer.

"No, nothing," Booth sighed, frustrated. "He's in surgery right now. That's all I know." Brennan nodded and handed him a plastic bag.

"I brought you a change of clothes," she said. "And I talked to Cam. She called everyone and they should be here soon…She said something about having Michelle watch Michael for Angela and Hodgins."

"Thanks," Booth said as he took the bag. "I'm going to go get changed and cleaned up. Are you going to be ok by yourself?"

"Yes," she nodded, resolute. Booth nodded back and was about to embrace her when he remembered his currently blood splattered condition.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he said. "Let me know if you hear anything."

A short while later, Booth returned to the waiting area and found Brennan still by herself her expression pensive. He immediately went over and sat down next to her, leaning over to hold her as he did so. She responded by wrapping her arms around him and propping herself against him.

"No word?" he murmured at her.

"No," she said. "Nothing. The others should be here soon." Booth nodded and held her silently. Suddenly he heard her sniffle and looked down to see her eyes sparkling with tears.

"Bones…?"

"Booth…what I said to Sweets," she said. "When he told us that he was going to get certified to carry a gun in the field…I…I didn't mean…I never wanted….."

"What are you talking about?" Booth said as he shifted to look her in the eye.

"I said…I said that he could draw fire and get shot instead of you so I wouldn't become a single parent," she said. "I know it's irrational, but I…."

"Hey no, listen Bones, you didn't mean anything by that," Booth assured her. "Sweets knows that." Brennan's eyes and nose began to turn red.

"I was relieved to know that you were uninjured when you told me about the robbery," she continued. "And I was glad that Sweets had saved you from being shot…but then I realized that the reason I was able to feel this relief was because Sweets had been hurt instead and that he could die and…."

"No, don't think like that," Booth insisted. "Sweets is going to be ok, all right? And he knows that you wouldn't want him to get hurt. There is nothing wrong with being relieved that I'm ok. I know that if it had been you in that situation instead of me, I'd be on my knees thanking God that nothing happened to you. It doesn't make your concern for what happened to him any less meaningful."

"Thank you Booth," she sniffed. The agent then held her close again.

"We'll get through this," he said. "So will he. You'll see."

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Cam, Angela, and Hodgins showed up, their faces downcast and the mood in the waiting room continued to be somber. There had been little word from the doctors on Sweets' condition and all of them were forced to participate in this tense waiting game.<p>

Booth had been sitting next to Brennan, fidgeting and letting his foot tap the floor rapidly. Brennan could tell that he was anxious and knew from experience that he hated long waits and sitting about doing nothing. But something in his agitation seemed out of place to her and she wondered if perhaps she was missing something.

"Booth," she said, placing a hand on his knee to still his leg. "Stop."

"Sorry Bones," Booth said shaking his head. "I guess I just…I didn't even notice I was doing it."

"I doubt that," she said. "You always seem to be aware of your surroundings and your actions even if you do not actively state as much." Booth sighed and slumped down in his chair.

"I know that you are trying to help all of us with our worries about Sweets," she added. "But I believe that you are worried about him too."

"Yeah, I am," Booth said quietly. "That and I…I just keep thinking about he got shot. Bones, he got hurt because he was getting me out of the line of fire."

"He was scared that you could get hurt and wanted to protect you," Brennan nodded.

"But that isn't his job," Booth burst out. "It's _my_ job to keep all of you safe, not his. I'm supposed to be protecting all of you and instead he gets shot. And now…."

"Booth, just because you normally protect us doesn't mean that we wouldn't want to protect you if we can," Brennan said. "You said that we were all a team, a family. Anthropologically speaking, members of a family unit do what they can to ensure the well-being of other members within said unit. In that context, Sweets' actions make sense."

"I guess," Booth sighed. "It's just…why didn't he just yell or use his gun? Why did he have to step in front of a bullet?"

"Perhaps he was afraid that you wouldn't hear him," Brennan offered. "Or perhaps he was uncertain if he would be able to hit the other robber from his vantage point. Or maybe, he just wanted to be sure that you wouldn't get hit."

"I guess that makes sense," Booth said. Brennan closed her hand around his.

"I concur with what you said earlier," she said with a slight smile. "We should stay positive and focus on Sweets' recovery as opposed to dwelling on what has already happened or what might have happened."

"You're right," Booth said. "You're right, Bones. Thanks for reminding me of that."

"I don't think you had actually forgotten it," Brennan said. "But I believe that we all need assurances about what we know once in a while, despite whatever evidence we use to build such knowledge."


	9. Assurances, part 3

Author's Note: Next chapter. This will be the final part of the Assurances storyline and the next chapters will go back to being standalone snippets...at least for now...

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It is always appreciated.

**Lives in the now: **Thank you. I do think that is a central theme within the B&B relationship (if not all of the major relationships on Bones) that for as different as they are, they learn so much from each other. I hope you will enjoy how I finish this off.

**Peanutmeg: **Thank you for the review. Ever since I heard that bit on the The Prince in the Plastic episode, I wondered if Brennan's words will come back to haunt her. And given how protective Booth is in this season, I figured that there would be a lot to test that side of him as well. Thus, it was fun to play with both in this fic. I hope you enjoy the update.

**Rex01: **Yes, I understand. Stay tuned and you'll get your answer in this chapter. :)

**D: **I agree. I believe that Sweets was onto something when he said that they complement each other and it's always fun to show why this is...

**Charlotte Thornton: **Again agreed. I do think that their partnership is so much more than just professional or even romantic. As to how Sweets is, read on. :)

**1917farmgirl: **Again, thank you for the very lovely review. I am glad that you've enjoyed my body of work on this site and a little impressed that you were able to plow through it so fast since there _is_ quite a lot there. ;) And I understand how you feel about the relative lack of Sweets-centric fic. When I first joined this site a couple years ago, there was only about 100 or so fics centered on him. Now there are twice as many, so it is improving, but you are right in saying that there is still a long way to go. Myself, I see Sweets as such a complex character, I find that I don't run out of ideas for him...even when I invite others to send ideas that they would like to see my way. :) So anyway, I don't see myself stopping anytime soon with the Sweets fic, so I hope you enjoy this and more of my work in the future as well.

**CauseAScene: **Thank you. I agree that I also love it when Sweets has a chance to show his strength and thus enjoyed constructing this storyline. I think that he has a lot of fortitude inside him that is sometimes overlooked, even by those close to him...As for the banter, it was a combination of paying tribute to an episode I enjoyed from season five (The Gamer in the Grease) and yes, a nod toward JFD's real life projects. :) I love to throw little references like that into my work...This is going to be the final part, so I hope that you will enjoy it. And I hope to see more of you fic soon too. :D

Assurances—Part 3

As Sweets opened his eyes, he found himself wishing that he could stay awake for a little longer this time.

Currently, he was lying in bed in the guestroom of Booth's and Brennan's new home. He had just spent over a week at the hospital recovering from being shot. Fortunately, the bullet had gone clean through him and hadn't hit anything vital, but the trauma and resulting blood loss had been severe. It had taken a whole day for him to wake up after surgeons had repaired the damage and another day yet before he could stay awake for more than a couple of minutes.

Sweets blinked a few times and gingerly turned onto his side toward the window next to his bed. The sun shone through the curtains, warming his face. He looked over at the giant teddy bear that was sitting on the edge of his bed, a present Daisy had brought him when she stopped by to visit that morning, and he started to think about how when he had first woken up, the first thing he had seen was her face staring down at him.

It had taken Angela several hours, but eventually she had been able to get a hold of the intern. Daisy had been doing research at a facility out of town and had turned off her cell phone at one point so that she could concentrate. By the time she had turned it back on, Sweets had already been taken out of surgery and into his own room. After that, she had stayed with him for most of the time he was in the hospital.

The psychologist yawned and fell back onto his back, his hand carefully running along his side. He had appreciated her company while he was at the hospital, but had wished that he could have done more than sleepily converse with her for a few minutes at a time most days. By the time the doctors gave the ok for him to leave, Sweets was more than ready to go. He had originally hoped to spend his recovery at his own apartment with Daisy looking after him, but due to her spending night and day with him while he was at the hospital, she was hopelessly behind in her grad work. Fortunately, Booth had not forgotten his promises and offered to let the therapist stay with him and Brennan for a week or two while he got his strength back.

The first day he had arrived at their place, Sweets hadn't been able to take it in much since he was ready for a nap after the small amount of activity involved with transferring him from the hospital to this guest room. Over the last couple of days though, he had had a chance to see more of the place and was impressed with the way that it had turned out.

'_Booth was right. He and Wendell put a lot of work into this,' _he mused. '_It barely looks like those pictures Booth showed me of when he first bought it anymore.'_

Sweets groaned and curled his hands up in an effort to stop himself from giving in to the urge to scratch at his stitches. Ever since he had woken up, he had been relieved that mild painkillers had been sufficient to keep his discomfort down to a tolerable level, but that didn't stop the pain from flaring up once in a while, and this was one of those times. He tried to reach over to the nightstand beside his bed for some water and his pills but found that they had been placed out of reach. Gasping he laid back down and tried to meditate to get his mind off the pain.

The problem with that though was the fact that whenever he let his mind wander on its own, he kept going back to the moment he was shot.

Sweets stared at the ceiling, his eyes blinking hard. From the car, he had seen the second bank robber sneak out of the side of the building and he had gotten out of the car to warn Booth about him. But then to his horror, Sweets saw the main raise his gun to aim at the agent, whose attention had been diverted by a woman who had run out of the building.

In that moment, he couldn't think, he could only move. He ran, faster than what he thought possible, toward Booth. He had wanted to just push him out of the way, but somewhere on an instinctive level, he knew that he only had time to nudge the agent out of the way before the other man fired. Thus, it did and yet it didn't surprise him a couple of seconds later when he felt white hot agony rip into his side, forcing him to fall to the ground.

The next couple of moments continued to haunt Sweets in his nightmares. He could feel his blood draining away from his body. He could see the fear in Booth's eyes and it had mirrored the fear he had felt in his soul. Even though he didn't regret what he had done to keep Booth safe, he was scared that he would die then and there and the idea of it had been more than just disconcerting to him.

Sweets swallowed hard and wished that he had a glass of water. He had spent most of his life doing what he could to avoid dwelling on the possibility of his own death. He had had to deal with his own mortality since he was a small child. As he had grown older, the depth of this subject had grown for him and it had subsequently become more and more difficult for him to contemplate it for any extended length of time.

Waking up in the hospital and seeing the light and Daisy's face had prompted him to burst into tears. Daisy had immediately kissed him, but then started calling for a nurse to give him something for the pain in the very next breath. Sweets was so relieved to see her, he didn't have the heart to tell her that his sobs had nothing to do with the physical agony he had felt in that moment.

The psychologist looked over at the small metal bell sitting nearby and sighed. Brennan had given it to him in case of some emergency or in case he needed something and was too weak to get it on his own. He hated feeling so helpless and having to have someone wait on him and thus was loathe to ring that bell. Instead he kept running his fingers along his bed sheets, trying to let the tactile sensation distract him from both his thirst and the ache he felt in his heart.

* * *

><p>Booth walked down the hallway toward the guest room. He had been in the hospital's chapel when Brennan came to tell him that the doctors had informed her that Sweets would be fine and had been immensely grateful that his prayers had been heard. Upon seeing how weak Sweets was when he woke up, he had decided to put off any sort of serious discussion with him over what happened until a later point. As the therapist recovered, Booth had found more and more excuses to put off said discussion, especially when he observed how somber Sweets had become as he recovered.<p>

The agent stepped quietly into the guest room and found Sweets lying on this bed with his eyes closed. He thought about turning around and leaving so as to not disturb him, but then he noticed a tear trailing down the psychologist's cheek. As much as he knew that he was going to be uncomfortable with this, he dared to keep walking toward the bed.

"Hey Sweets," he nearly whispered. "Are you ok? Do you need anything?" The psychologist's eyes flew open and he immediately swiped at his face.

"Thirsty," he croaked. He tried to prop himself up again, but Booth pushed him to lie back down once he saw how the psychologist trembled from the effort. He then grabbed some additional pillows from the closet and carefully helped Sweets to sit up and then lie against them into a more upright position. He then poured Sweets a large glass of water and handed it to him.

"Sweets, if you were feeling that weak, you should have had Bones or I come in here to stay with you," he said. "We gave you that bell in case you needed us." The therapist shook his head.

"I didn't want to bother you guys," he said. Booth pulled a chair over to sit beside the bed.

"If we had been worried about things like that, we wouldn't have had you come here in the first place," he said. "Don't worry about it, all right?"

"Ok," Sweets nodded, looking at the window again. Booth thought about leaving him to rest for a while, but something nagged at him. Something he was certain that Sweets needed to listen to.

"Sweets, I…I want to thank you," Booth said. "You saved me from getting shot and I am grateful for that. I know that we will need to talk more about your role in the field, but I don't want you to forget my gratitude to you for having my back." Sweets swiveled his head at the agent, a smile on his face.

"Thanks Booth," he mumbled. "But I…." The psychologist looked away. "But it wasn't like I was a hero or anything. While it was happening, I was just…just um…."

"Scared that you were going to die?" Booth asked quietly. Sweets nodded. "That's to be expected Sweets. To be honest, I'd wonder if you needed some shrinking yourself if you didn't feel that way. There's no room in the Bureau or on my team for people who live as if they have nothing to lose."

Sweets nodded again, and Booth watched him in silence for a moment. He knew that there was a lot more that could be said, and he suspected that Sweets felt the same way. Somehow though, it just didn't feel like the time for such concerns.

Instead, Booth placed his hand on Sweets' arm and squeezed.

"Bones was wondering what you were wanting for dinner tonight," he said. "We figured that it was time for our guest to put in a request of his own." Sweets laughed a little and looked back at him.

"I love Chinese," he said. Booth grinned and shook his head.

"Yeah, I told Bones that you'd say that and she didn't believe me," he said. "So thanks for helping me win that bet."

"Glad I could help," Sweets smirked. "So I guess this means that I get to pick out a movie to watch tonight?"

"Oh all right," Booth said, rolling his eyes. "But it better not be some cornball, unnecessary remake of some classic sci-fi film."

"I'll try to be more creative than that," Sweets chuckled, closing his eyes again.

"Hey, it's ok," Booth assured him. "We can watch whatever you want later. Bones and I…we're just glad that you're here and that you're ok."

Sweets smiled and Booth was about to say more until he realized that the psychologist had already fallen back asleep.


	10. Pursuits

Author's Note: It's been a while, but now that Season Seven is over, and I've had a chance to contemplate it, I am finding some more inspiration for these snippets. This one takes place not long after The Warrior in the Wuss.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this.

**MmMystery: **Thanks. I do plan on including more Booth/Sweets scenes, but as you will see in this fic, I will be spending some time with the others too...

**Lives in the now: **Thank you. I do think that something like that in canon would give the both of them a lot to think about along with a mess of emotions to work through, thus it was fun to imagine how it might happen.

**Charlotte Thornton: **I agree that I've never cared for it when on a show (or in fanfic for that matter) a person goes through a traumatic event like that and then everything's fine in a few minutes (or in a couple of chapters as the case may be). Plus, I agree that the idea of Sweets spending time with B&B while he recovers seems in line with the theme of family taking care of each other on this show. I have something different for this chapter, which I hope you enjoy as well.

**D: **I agree that sometimes even if he knows something already, Sweets seems to need to hear it out loud from someone else. That certainly seems to be the trend in canon from the beginning up through now...

**1917farmgirl: **Thank you. I agree that a large part of the appeal of this show is the relationships and these characters' stories. It's what keeps me glued to the screen even when the cases are not up to par...I agree that there is a very real lack of Sweets fic on the site and hope that more writers will add to the (slowly) growing body of work that is there now. Again, I know that I am not one for writing short chapters or stories, so I am still impressed that you went through it so quickly. :)...As for some more stuff with Sweets and Hodgins, I think you must have read my mind. :D I hope you enjoy what I have come up with (and yes, there will be more of it in the future.

**Whirlwind421: **Yeah, prizes in snacks, cereals and the like have all gone on the cheap. It's a shame to see, really as that kind of stuff used to be so much fun...And I am glad that you enjoyed all of these bits so far. I like having the chance to just play around with these characters when the mood strikes me, and I could probably use the the chance to include some more fluff in my work considering my normal angst-fests. Expect more fluff in this chapter and others in the future.

Chapter Ten—Pursuits

Sweets didn't really need a cup of coffee in that moment, but then again, he had no reason to be in any sort of hurry.

* * *

><p>Earlier that morning, Sweets had evaluated another set of performance and personality tests for Doctor Saroyan to use as a supplement in the process of making changes in personnel. After seeing a couple of patients, the psychologist headed over to the Jeffersonian. He explained the tests to her and went over how the results could be used to make assessments of the staff at the lab. By the time he was done, it was mid-afternoon.<p>

The psychologist thought about heading back to the Hoover Building, but then it occurred to him that he did not have any pressing need to return to his office. He had no more patients to see and no profiles to finish. All that was waiting for him was some routine paperwork which he knew probably wouldn't take long and wasn't that urgent in the first place. Instead he started to think about having a late, leisurely lunch. He couldn't decide what restaurant to go to, so he headed up the stairs to the balcony overlooking the lab so that he could grab a cup of coffee and think on it.

When he reached the top, he found Hodgins sitting there, sipping a cup of his own and leafing through a magazine. The entomologist looked up at him for a brief second before returning to his periodical.

"Hey Sweets," he said. "Is something going on? Have we got a case?"

"No, nothing," Sweets said as he poured himself some coffee. "Just dropping off some things for Doctor Saroyan."

Hodgins nodded and focused his attention back on the pages in front of him. Sweets quickly drank the cup in his hand and then poured himself another one before moving to sit down next to Hodgins on the couch. The therapist looked at the cover of the catalog that Hodgins was studying and realized that it was a catalog of scientific equipment.

Sweets' eyebrow rose slightly as he took another sip. A couple of nights ago he had had dinner and drinks with Doctor Saroyan at the Founding Fathers, and she had told him about the budget headaches she was facing due to the entomologist's recent spending.

"_The worst thing is that everyone knows about how he used those new toys to not only solve that murder, but to throw an impromptu Founder's Day Party," she had said. "So even if I wanted to, there is no way I could send them back. Now, I have to find ways to siphon money from other budgets temporarily and distract the staff who takes care of certain botanical exhibits here at the Jeffersonian."_

The two things that Sweets remembered best about this conversation were Cam's frustration at Hodgins' wanton spending and the unspoken promises of what the pathologist would do if she was placed in this situation again. Seeing the entomologist eyeing even more lab equipment compelled Sweets to act.

"Um, what are you looking at, Doctor Hodgins?" he asked.

"This," Hodgins replied, turning the catalog toward Sweets. The psychologist read the caption for what appeared to be a high-powered microscope.

"This is the latest version," Hodgins gushed. "It has features which would make a lot of our current equipment look like relics from the age of alchemy."

"Impressive," Sweets nodded. "But…isn't it expensive?"

"Of course it is," Hodgins answered incredulously. "But it's totally worth it. I mean, can you imagine the work I could do with one of these in the lab?"

"I am sure that it would be awesome," Sweets agreed. "That is, if the lab has the money to afford it."

"Sweets, some things are about more than money," Hodgins said.

"Like what, in this case?" the psychologist asked him.

"Catching murderers," Hodgins answered. "Saving lives. The pursuit of scientific discoveries…These are things that will mean something long after the money is spent on some needed equipment."

"And this equipment could help you move toward all of this," Sweets responded.

"Yes, exactly," Hodgins said. He then tossed the catalog onto a nearby coffee table.

"It's not just about spending a few extra bucks," he continued. "It's about enabling us to achieve more."

"But isn't that possible even without all of this equipment?" Sweets asked. "After all, a lab like this couldn't function at this level without other things like the people in it."

"Well yeah, of course that matters," Hodgins said with a huff. The entomologist fell back against the couch and stared at a wall while Sweets scooted over closer to him.

"Perhaps this is about more than wanting to update equipment," Sweets said. Hodgins let out a short laugh.

"Come on, Sweets," he said. "Don't turn this into another psych exercise. What's so wrong about wanting the best possible tools to work with?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all," Sweets said. "If that desire is given reasonable restraint. But that isn't the case here. Doctor Saroyan has already expressed concern over how much has been spent recently, and I believe that she will take more drastic actions if the same issue comes up again anytime soon."

"Yeah, I know," Hodgins frowned. "I'm kind of surprised that so little happened this last time, quite frankly." The two of them were silent for a couple moments. Sweets finished his coffee and sat his empty cup down next to the discarded catalog.

"I think that you are right and that this isn't just about the lab spending some additional money," Sweets said. "But I also think that it is not just about getting new equipment either. I believe that it's about something else….some far more important."

Hodgins let out a deep sigh, his blue eyes thoughtful. He then rubbed his eyes and turned to face Sweets.

"I haven't told Ange this," he said. "But…You know, I love my job. I love what I do. Booth getting Doctor B involved in homicide cases was one of the best things that ever happened in this lab and to me. The only thing better was Angela and the two of us finally getting together and having Michael come into our lives. But, still….."

Hodgins pushed himself upright on the couch and leaned toward the psychologist.

"Sometimes I think about the stuff that I am _not_ doing while I'm doing all of this," he continued. "I think about all of the research I'm not pursuing because I'm busy helping to solve a murder. I think about all of the discoveries that I'm not accomplishing because I have all of these responsibilities to Angela and Michael to consider. And then…I think about how time is still ticking by."

"And there isn't an infinite amount of time," Sweets said.

"No, there isn't," Hodgins replied. "I've only got so long to accomplish that kind of stuff. And sometimes, I just…I just don't know if I am going to get as much done as I am hoping for. I went into these disciplines with the intention of making real contributions. Sometimes…sometimes I feel like less of a real scientist and more of a cog in a crime fighting machine. It's not so much that I feel like solving murders isn't a good use of my time…."

"It just isn't the only thing that defines you," Sweets finished for him.

"Yeah," Hodgins said. "Yeah, that's it exactly." The entomologist then settled back into the couch and started to stare at the walls again. Sweets leaned back against the cushions as well.

"Doctor Hodgins…I understand how you feel," he said.

"You do?" Hodgins asked. "How can you?" Sweets smiled wryly.

"I may not work in a hard science field, but I, too, am part of a field which involves research and discoveries," the psychologist said. "And I know what it's like to feel as if you're not accomplished what you dreamed of in your profession. It would be easy to look at things like the book I wrote and ended up discarding or the slow pace of my own research as evidence of my failure to follow the pursuits that led me to this kind of work."

Sweets paused and Hodgins watched him silently while he waited for the therapist to continue.

"But then I think about all of the stuff I have learned and accomplished which I wouldn't have if I had remained single-minded in my original goals," Sweets said. "I realize that, sometimes, it really is more about the journey and that there is a strong chance that the more routine work I do is helping me build something even greater than I had imagined." The psychologist then turned his head toward Hodgins.

"I think it could be the same for you," he added. "You could be advancing toward breakthroughs that you might not have arrived at if you had only stuck with what appeared to be the 'correct' way to go about your work. But perhaps, even more important than that, you will have had the opportunity to develop your mark on science in your own way while living a fulfilling life."

Hodgins nodded and silently considered Sweets' words for a moment before turning toward him again.

"Yeah…you know, I actually was thinking about that case we worked a few days ago," the entomologist said. "The one with the guy who was found in the dumpster behind that sushi restaurant. I remember working that case and thinking about several ideas for papers I could write with just a little more research…Maybe I should stop putting that off…."

Sweets smiled as he watched Hodgins work through his epiphany for a minute longer and then stand up.

"Hey Sweets, how about you, me and Ange go out for lunch," he said. "My treat.

"Sure," the psychologist grinned as he got to his feet. "I don't need to be back at the office any time soon. And hey, if you and she are up for it, we could maybe do some competitive karaoke after that."

"Ok, I can definitely say that that is not happening," Hodgins said. "Let's see what Ange feels like doing after lunch. I'll go get her and meet you by the lab entrance. See you in a minute."

Hodgins dashed off, and Sweets slowly walked down the staircase, leaving the balcony. As he continued to think about the conversation he had just had with Hodgins, Sweets could not stop smiling.

He had just had the chance to fulfill one of the pursuits that was close to his heart and few things in his life felt as satisfying as that.


	11. Illusions

Author's Note: Yes, a new snippet and this is going to be another multi-part snippet storyline. I know that this chapter won't make a whole lot of sense, but don't worry, it will later. :)

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It's always appreciated.

**Lives in the now: **Thank you for that. I will admit, I was confused that the writers had Hodgins getting so worked up over lab equipment, so I was trying to find a way to make more sense of it when this idea came to me. Plus, I am always wishing for more Sweets/Hodgins scenes on the show. :) But even more than that, I do think that sometimes Hodgins would feel somewhat reflective of how his life has changed over these past few years...I hope you will enjoy this new series of snippets.

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. I am hoping that we will see more more Sweets/Hodgins moments in the next season. I hope you enjoy this update too.

**Whirlwind421: **Yeah, it's good to go for more fluffy stuff here and there. :) But hopefully you will still enjoy the shift in mood in this snippet...

**Charlotte Thornton: **Yes, I was on a bit of a writing hiatus for a while there. As much as there were many things that I liked about season seven, there were some things I disliked and even loathed a bit (including some stuff from the finale). But for now, I find that I can continue on with the approach that I should just enjoy what I like and move on from what I don't...Thank you. I do think that Sweets and Hodgins have a great dynamic and I missed seeing them interact more this last season. Here's to hoping more will happen in the next one. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this snippet.

Chapter Eleven—Illusions

'_Just as the twining river bends/ So are we here back again…'_

* * *

><p>Sweets stumbled and struggled to regain his footing, but maintaining his balance seemed insurmountable given how unsure he was of what he could see around him.<p>

He was certain that he was still trying to find his way out of this clump of warehouses that he had been searching with Booth, and he was certain that he was getting close to the some local businesses that were nearby.

But he was questioning whether or not there really was an old man with a purple hat following him.

The psychologist shook his head and continued to move forward. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had convinced himself that if he just kept moving straightforward, eventually he would find his bearings. It was simply a matter of putting one foot in front of the other and making sure that he didn't accidentally change directions. Sweets tried to repeat this mantra to himself over and over again in his mind, but was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. He stole a glance behind him again and saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

'_It's that man again. What does he want from me? Why is he wearing that purple hat? Is it so he can talk to those purple cats I saw earlier?'_

Sweets shook his head again and willed himself to concentrate.

'_What was I doing here? That's right, I was looking for something. Looking for something with Booth. Where is he? I need to find him. Booth will know what is going on.'_

The psychologist kept moving, but now he had a new purpose: find Booth. He now was consumed by the hope that finding the agent would make everything else fall in place.

Including why he saw purple cats in the first place.

'_No, no, there are no purple cats…That wasn't real,' _he told himself forcibly. _'It was a hallucination, an illusion. It doesn't matter if I saw it…if I think I saw it. Something is wrong…something that is making me see things. What happened?'_

Sweets tried to remember what had happened before he started this search, but came up with nothing. He redoubled his efforts to keep moving forward, but each step started to feel disconnected, as if someone else was walking for him and he was just along for the ride.

Suddenly, he saw Booth in front of a hot dog stand, chomping the end off a frank smothered in relish. Sweets ran over to him.

"Booth, where were you?" Sweets asked, his words tumbling out of his mouth. "What is going on? And is there a man with a purple hat following us?"

Booth's face screwed up in confusion as he swallowed the bite in his mouth.

"What are you on, pal?" he asked. "Look, go away before I call a cop over." Now it was Sweets turn to be confused.

"Booth, what are you saying? You are a cop," Sweets replied. "You're an agent. Don't you remember?"

Sweets reached over to pat his shoulder, but Booth jerked and pushed him roughly away.

"Get out of here," he bellowed at Sweets. It was then that Booth's face seemed to melt away and in its place was the face of a stranger. Sweets blinked several times while trying to clear his head.

"Wait…Booth…?"

The man gave him another hard shove. Sweets, unnerved and angry at being treated this way, shoved back, causing the man to fall backward. He then stormed away. His indignation over what happened, however, quickly evaporated as he realized that he had only imagined that man to be Booth. He shook as he ran his hands over his face.

'_What is happening to me? Why am I seeing things? Have I…have I lost my mind? Have I finally snapped?'_

Sweets shivered, his hand passing over a bruise on his neck several times. Somewhere in his memory, he could recollect how he sometimes wondered what it would be like to be afflicted with some of the disorders he had studied over the years as a psychologist. It had been an irrational sort of terror, the kind you have when falling into a nightmare or having a dark daydream while sitting in your house alone.

Now, however, he was faced with that very fear in a much more visceral form.

'_No…no I am not crazy,' _he told himself. '_I know what is real and what isn't. A mentally ill person would not be able to know the difference. That man wasn't Booth, the cats don't exist…and there isn't a man following me…I think.'_

Sweets started walking again. Occasionally, he would see some other strange sight like more purple cats and dogs talking to garbage shaped beings, but he did his best to ignore them. As he walked his hand continued to rub a sore spot on his neck.

'_Why does my neck hurt like that?' _he wondered. '_It's like a giant bee stung me. A man shaped bee with a silver stinger.'_

"_Here…have some fun for a while…"_

Sweets jerked and stumbled against the wall. That last voice inside his head was not his own, and his brain scrambled to figure out where it came from.

'_Was someone there? Was it a memory? Yes, it had to be a memory…it has to be, right? It's either that or I am hearing voices. Could I be hearing voices?'_

Sweets ran a hand over his face and resumed walking. He tried to reason out clinically what could be happening to him. He knew that hearing voices and visual hallucinations could point to a form of schizophrenia, but he couldn't accept the idea.

'_I don't have any other symptoms and there is no family history…I think. But…I don't know about my biological family. What if they….?'_

The psychologist swallowed hard and stopped to look around him. If he had schizophrenia, he would need to be treated; he would have to get help. Right now though, help seemed to be impossible to find.

Suddenly he was hit with a wave of nausea, and Sweets slumped down to the ground. He felt himself spiraling into darkness even as he tried to resist it.

'_No…no I don't want to go….go into the dark…he will find me there….'_

* * *

><p><em>The world around Sweets had grown and become grey. Objects seemed to be ten times their normal size and walkways stretched to nowhere. Sweets knew that it couldn't be real, but he also couldn't fathom where he was now.<em>

"_You're with me now, Lance….That was a dream…"_

_Sweets whirled around and saw his biological father standing in front of him. His rational mind remembered him only being less than six feet tall, but right now he was a giant standing in front of him, a maniacal grin growing on his face._

"_Welcome back, Lance. Remember me?"_

_Sweets backed away. Even though he was sure that this was a dream, he felt bile rise in his throat and his insides quake. He didn't want to be in this nightmare. _

'_Wake up, wake up,' he repeated to himself over and over. His biological father laughed and reached down to grab his wrist._

"_You'll see, Lance" he bellowed. "You'll see that when you wake up, it won't make a bit of difference."_

* * *

><p>Sweets' eyes flew open, and he was terrified to see that there was still a man yanking on his wrist, the smell of cheap vodka and unwashed clothes pungent in the air.<p>

"Gimmie…gimmie that watch," the man slurred.

"No, let go," Sweets yelled back. He twisted his arm free, but lost his watch in the process. The other man scampered away, leaving Sweets to sit up and scrub his eyes.

'_What is happening to me? Nothing makes sense anymore.'_

'_Am I losing my mind?'_

'_Or is it possible I never had it in the first place?'_

'_Which one is the dream and which one is reality?'_

Sweets leapt to his feet and shook his head defiantly as he sprinted away.

'_No…no, that's not right. I am Doctor Lance Sweets. I am not crazy. I have a life, a job, a place…I just need to get back to them.'_

'_Back…back to the case. The case I was working with Booth. That is what I need to do: find Booth and work the case.'_

Sweets returned to his search, but found that every street he walked down looked the same to him. Signs had nothing but vague characters. People became a collection of menacing faces.

Suddenly, Sweets saw a face: a man with dark brown eyes and short brown hair. He finally smiled.

"Booth," he said, running over to him. "Booth, something's wrong. I keep seeing things…."

But to his horror, Booth grinned and closed his hands into fists while motioning for another man to come over.

"Looks like we got ourselves a crazy in our neighborhood," Booth continued to grin, the smile becoming wider and the teeth sharper. "Looks like he's going to need a lesson."

Sweets backed away as the two men approached. As he took a step back, Booth's face twisted into a feral snarl and then into something far less than human.

He knew that these men were going to try to hurt him. His mind flashed back to every other time he had been bullied as a child and something inside him snapped.

The man threw a punch at Sweets, but the psychologist responded by dodging and smashing a fist against the man's nose. A spurt of red appeared and that seemed to make both men even angrier.

Fists rained down on Sweets, and the psychologist fell to the ground. Soon, Sweets felt his own blood start to trickle from various wounds. The sensation scared him even as it further enraged him and caused him to flail about, kicking and punching as best he could. He could tell by the sudden aches in his hands and feet that some blows hit their targets.

When a third form joined the fray, however, the numbers turned against Sweets and he was left with clamping his arms over his head until these monsters got bored with hitting him. It was a waiting game he had played before, back when his birth father decided to "teach him a lesson". Thus, Sweets knew that he would just have to stay still and endure the agony until the lesson was complete.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually the three figures left, and Sweets was able to sink down against the asphalt. His body was on fire, pain radiating from everywhere. He managed to grab at a section of a nearby brick wall and slowly pull himself up to his feet. He then staggered, clinging to the wall and hoping that he wouldn't fall again because he wasn't sure if he could get back up.

Sweets looked behind him and saw that the old man with the hat was still following him, silent and staring. He wondered what that man wanted and could not shake the feeling that the man was somehow familiar to him.

'_Why didn't you help me?' _Sweets asked the man silently. '_Why are you just watching over me, following me around?'_

'_Why did you leave me?'_

Sweets found a nook between the wall and a large dumpster and crawled into it. Nauseous and wracked with pain, he laid back down on the ground. He stared at the debris scattered about in front of him and focused in on some feathery bits of white. His fingers reached over and touched them.

'_They're soft. Like petals, like flowers…That's what I want, flowers. Petals, flowers, daisies…I want daisies. I want Daisy…why isn't she here? I need her here...'  
><em>

"_You'll see that when you wake up, it won't make a bit of difference."_

And it hadn't. He was still here, bleeding on the ground. He was still alone, still lost, still faced with an empty world and with a possibly broken mind.

He had gone back to his beginning.

And now the beginning would also be the end.


	12. Illusions, part 2

Author's Note: Next chapter. This is kind of a long snippet and again, this might have worked as a standalone story, but oh well. :D The whole point of these snippets is to come up with things off the top of my head and sometimes, they just seem to grow on their own. Anyway, there will be one or two more parts after this one.

I do not own Bones or any of its characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. It's always appreciated.

**Charlotte Thornton: **Thank you. As to your questions...both will be answered in this update, but I can safely say that you will have more questions by the end of it...

**Seletua: **The idea of Sweets not being in his right mind for reasons unknown just really stuck with me, thus this series of snippets. All will be revealed by the end of all this (even though there will be more puzzles in this chapter)...And yes, there will be consequences and meaning drawn from these illusions too as you will see...

**Rex01: **I think I covered a lot of your questions in private chats and PMs, but I will add some stuff: **1**. I think my scenario will make sense and answer most of your questions...I just hope that it also satisfies you...**2**. No, I'm not that mean. Well...actually yes I am, but that's still not going to happen in this fic. ;)...**3**. Vicious neighborhood hooker? :D But hey, you know the old saying about being careful about what you wish for etc...**4**. I had thought of that actually. Stay tuned...**5**. Yeah, I can be sneaky, what of it? :P But no, it had been my intent to expose more sides of Sweets in this one in roundabout ways. I will save the kung fu stuff for later though. We will talk. :D

**Peanutmeg: **Thanks for the review. Yes, there will be fallout from these illusions as you will see...It makes sense to me too that Sweets would be concerned about Booth if he was with them when this started and would be looking for him. As this chapter will show, things will not be resolved so easily...

**Lives in the now: **Yeah, I do like to go all over the place with my work at times. :) I can promise though that everything (even some important illusions) will be explained by the end of this. In the meantime, I hope you will enjoy this chapter.

Chapter Twelve—Illusions—part 2

_'__The body broken, the mind asleep/ But the shattered heart will make one weep...'_

* * *

><p>Sweets couldn't remember falling unconscious, but was now faced with the sensation of trying to pry his eyes open. He then struggled to pull himself into a sitting position and blinked several times. He wiped away something wet on his cheek and was startled to see his hand smudged with red.<p>

'_What happened? Was I attacked? Wait…I was. That's what happened. Booth…no, those men… no those things jumped me. Where am I? Where is Booth?'_

Sweets rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. He could still feel pain from his injuries, but now the pain was strangely dulled. All that was left was a persistent throbbing sensation from every place where he was hurt.

That hurt was not enough, however, to stop him from wanting to get away from where he was now. It took a couple of tries, but eventually he got back up to his feet and resumed a slow, shuffling gait as he tried to find….something.

'_Did something happen to Booth? Is that why he's not here? Maybe he was hungry and that is why he was at the hotdog stand….no, wait that wasn't Booth. Just like those other people weren't him…right?'_

The psychologist felt something sticky drip down from the side of his forehead, but ignored it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he had been hurt and probably needed medical attention.

'_Maybe Booth does too. We…we were looking for someone. Someone dangerous. A man…a man with huge hands and needles for fingertips. No…no that's not possible…is it? It was a case…We were working a case…Someone….someone was going to have something, something….'_

Sweets stumbled a couple of times and then stopped to lean against a lamp post. The case he thought he had been working on with Booth had become a distant memory that he couldn't grasp anymore. Still, case or no case, Sweets felt sure that Booth could be hurt for reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on. He needed to press on, to find out the truth of what happened. A stabbing pain came from his side, and Sweets hunched down and moved his hands to hold onto himself.

It was then that he discovered that he still had his gun.

The therapist pulled it out of his belt holster and stared at it. For a moment, he couldn't fathom why he had it, but then he realized that he probably needed it now. He put the gun back in the holster, but made sure to position it so he could draw and fire in an instant if he needed to.

'_I need to find help,' _he reminded himself. '_There has to be someone around who could help…if only to find Booth and get him the help he might need. I have to find someone.'_

Sweets started to walk again. A part of him wanted to weep when he kept seeing normally inanimate objects like post office boxes and street signs shudder and stare at him. He was wondering if he had truly gone insane and he didn't want to imagine a life spent trapped in his own hallucinations.

For now though, the search would have to be his main focus, his motivation to keep his feet moving and to stop his body from giving up.

* * *

><p>Sweets wished that he knew how long he had been walking, but time no longer seemed like a linear concept. Seconds sped by but then dripped down to a crawl before repeating themselves. All he could be certain of was that he had wandered into an area devoid of people, and while he felt some relief that he wouldn't be harassed, he also knew that isolation was contrary to his goal right now.<p>

'_My brave Lancelot…'_

'_Daisy?'_

Sweets blinked several times and was startled to see a petite brunette staring at him from behind a window. He walked over and was elated to discover that he recognized her and the sweater she was wearing.

'_That sweater…Daisy wore it during that walk we had a couple of weeks ago. We held hands and walked toward the sunset…But why is she here?'_

Sweets placed a hand on the glass and pressed it against the smooth surface.

'_Maybe she was looking for me. Maybe Booth is too. I was with him and maybe he isn't as lost as me. He could have sent people to find me…Or maybe someone found him and got help.'_

"Daisy," he said, his voice cracking. He wanted to get closer to her, to touch her. He curled his hands into fists and pounded them against the glass, but she did not move.

"Daisy, please," he said, his tears coming unbidden. He swiped them away and searched for a way to get to her. He found a door and shoved it open. He then shuffled toward her, his arms outstretched.

His foot slipped, and he fell against another figure, stiff and unmoving. The figure fell onto him and made him fall onto his back onto a tiled floor. It was a woman, her eyes dry and unnaturally blue. Her stare seemed to go right through him.

'_What are you?'_

'_Why are you here?'_

'_Why won't you let me go?'_

Sweets let out a strangled cry and shoved the woman away from him. He then yanked out his gun and started to shoot. The woman fell to pieces, limbs falling into a heap on the floor. The therapist let another couple of bullets fly and was horrified to see one of them hit Daisy, shattering her torso. Sweets watched in open-mouthed shock as she fell into a pile onto the floor.

'_No…no…what did I do?'_

He carefully crawled over, mindful of the other scattered pieces around him, until he reached what was left of her. Her lifeless brown eyes remained wide open, alien and accusatory. His own chocolate eyes turned red from his tears that streamed down his face.

'_Daisy…oh Daisy, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry….I didn't mean…I didn't want to…'_

Sweets lowered his head to rest on her shoulder, burying his face in the soft, green sweater which had identified her and cradling her as best he could. Only hours ago, he believed that he had fallen into the worst possible nightmare.

But now he knew that it had only been the beginning and that there was so much further that he could fall…so much further that he could be enveloped by the blackest terror and sorrow.

"_You see, Lance, you're just like me."_

Sweets looked up to see his birth father grinning at him, his eyes black orbs.

"_This is who you are," _he continued. "_At your core. After you strip away that front you put up for show. You will destroy all those you touch…hurt the ones you think you love the most. And in the end, you will know that you really are your father's son."_

Sweets watched as his biological father's grin turned into a grotesque parody of a smile complete with jagged, rotted teeth. A hollow laugh soon echoed from the mouth.

"_Join me…don't fight it anymore."_

The psychologist screamed and scrambled up to his feet. He started to point the gun at his biological father but ended up shoving the gun into his pocket instead. With a surge of effort, he ran from the building and bounded down the streets away from what he did and from the horrible sound of his birth father's voice. He frequently tripped and nearly fell more than once, but he kept running as best he could, his lungs burning and his heart pounding too fast in his chest.

He didn't know where he was going, and he couldn't care less anymore.

* * *

><p>"Booth, hold still and let the EMTs look at you," Brennan scolded.<p>

Booth scowled and lifted his head toward the pen light that one of the EMTs was holding, even though the urge to vomit again was starting to creep up on him. He sat on the edge of the back of the ambulance and all he could think about was where Sweets could be.

The two of them had been investigating a pair of homicides that had led them to a local gang who had graduated from simple vandalism and assault to drug dealing and murder. Many of the underlings had been caught by vice, but the leader and his two closest confederates were still at large. Based off his profiles and interviews of the gang members they had in custody, Sweets had been convinced that it had been the leader who had killed those people. Their investigation had led them to a clump of mostly abandoned warehouses, and they had gone there with the intent of talking to a security guard who worked at one of the few buildings still in use.

From the moment Booth and Sweets arrived, however, things went wrong. The guard had gone home early that day due to a family emergency, and as they were leaving, they found a trail of blood that led to a mutilated corpse that had been stashed in one of the empty buildings. The two of them started to head back to the SUV to report it when they were fired on with Booth taking a bullet to the arm.

They both managed to find cover, but were split up in the process. As Booth snaked his way through the area, he hoped that Sweets would be able to keep his head down and not run into any trouble. Not so much because he worried about the psychologist being unable to defend himself, but because he was certain that Sweets would have to use deadly force in order to stay safe.

Booth knew all too much about the burden of killing another human being and did not want to think about Sweets sharing this burden.

The agent had caught a glimpse of one of the gang members sneaking up on Sweets and was getting a bead on him when he felt a blow to the head from behind. Booth's world went black as he fell to the ground.

He had no idea how much time had passed, but eventually, Booth had been able to regain consciousness and make it back to his SUV to call for backup and an ambulance. He then spent the time waiting for the others vomiting, trying to remain lucid, and scanning the immediate area for Sweets or the gang members. None of them were around.

Booth groaned as the EMT worked to bandage his head. The agent continued to chastise himself for getting so distracted as to let someone sneak up behind him, but those self-recriminations were overshadowed by his worries over what had happened to Sweets in the meantime.

"Well the shot to the arm looks like a flesh wound. Nothing serious. But this head wound looks like a concussion. A pretty bad one too," the EMT said. "He needs to go to the hospital."

"No," Booth protested. "No, those guys are still out there. And Sweets…." Booth was stopped by another wave of nausea and hung his head.

"Booth, you are in no condition to go searching for Sweets," Brennan informed him.

Booth shook his head. The ambulance and a SWAT team arrived at the same time and SWAT secured the area while the EMTs started to treat Booth. The all clear had been given shortly thereafter and forensic teams were called in. Booth ended up calling Brennan to let her know what happened, and the agent mentioned to her that the team would be needed to identify the corpse.

This led to a very concerned Brennan, Cam, Hodgins and Angela showing up at the scene both to check on Booth and find out what happened to Sweets. They all huddled next to the ambulance where Booth was being treated while the agent caught them up on what was happening.

"Easy big man," Cam said. "You're not going anywhere with that blow to the head. And while it may be a flesh wound, you've lost a lot of blood."

"Still, we need to find Sweets, right?" Angela said. "He could be hurt too."

"Agent Booth."

Booth lifted his head to see one of the techs heading toward him with a syringe encased in an evidence bag in his hand.

"We found this near one of the buildings," the tech said. "Looks like it had been used recently."

"Red Moon, it has to be," Booth groaned.

"Red Moon?" Cam replied. "Isn't that one of those new designer drugs?"

"Yeah," Booth said, rubbing his eyes. "We were thinking that these guys were selling it, trying to make inroads in the DC market."

"So, one of the gang members took some of this stuff while they were hiding out here?" Hodgins said.

"No, probably not," Booth replied as the EMT finished applying the bandage. "Red Moon is a combination of LSD and varying barbiturates. If they took that, they'd be too out of it to know what was going on, let alone stalk and ambush us."

"Wait, you don't think that…that maybe Sweets somehow…" Angela gasped.

"Oh my God," Cam said. "If they injected him with that stuff…We've got to find him."

"What is it, Cam?" Booth said, tense at how she reacted.

"I've talked with some of my old colleagues who have encountered and treated people who have taken this drug," the pathologist said. "There are the expected side effects like hallucinations and impaired brain functioning, but if too much is taken at once, it can lead to things like seizures or even respiratory failure. And that can happen hours after the initial injection. We need to find him and get him to a hospital in case he has a severe reaction."

Booth tried to stand up, but ended up crouching down and vomiting again off to the side. Every fiber of his being told him that he needed to be involved with this search, but deep down he knew that Cam and Brennan were right: there was no way he would be able to do much good in his condition.

The agent's train of thought was interrupted by the sight of Agent Payton Perotta running toward them.

"I came as soon as I heard about what happened," Perotta said as she came up to them. "Are you all right? What about Doctor Sweets?"

"I'm fine," Booth moaned as he sat back down at the back of the ambulance.

"Actually Booth is suffering from a severe concussion," Brennan replied. "And Doctor Sweets is missing. We suspect that Doctor Sweets was injected with a hallucinogenic drug known colloquially as Red Moon."

"I've heard about it from vice," Perotta nodded.

"Where's Agent Shaw?" Booth asked.

"Some local cops spotted those gang members you were tracking and she's taken a team to apprehend them," Perotta mentioned. "I decided to head out here to see if I could help."

Booth shook his head. If Sweets was pumped full of this drug, Booth knew that finding and dealing with the psychologist would be problematic.

'_If a bunch of strangers go looking for him, Sweets might avoid them…or worse. We need people who he'll trust…people who know him and who might know what he'll do….'_

"Perotta, assemble a team….but take Cam, Angela, Hodgins or Bones with you," he said.

"I'm going with you to the hospital, Booth," Brennan insisted.

"Don't worry, Booth," Cam said as the others nodded. "We'll look for Sweets."

"And get a hold of Daisy," Booth continued. "Have her join the search."

"Daisy?" Hodgins replied. "Why her?"

"Because she knows Sweets better than anyone," Angela nodded, catching onto Booth's idea. "She might know where he would go or what he would do if he were confused."

"Right," Booth grimaced as Brennan helped him into the ambulance. "Make sure to let all of the agents know that Sweets won't be himself but be careful…there is a good chance that he's still armed."

"We'll find him, Booth," Perotta assured him. "I promise."

Booth nodded once more before falling back to lie down on a gurney while Brennan settled into to sit beside him. The EMTs then got into the ambulance and took off. All of them watched them leave before Perotta turned to face them, pulling out her cell phone.

"Ok, each of you is going to be teamed with an agent," she told them. "Make sure to let them know anything you can about where you think Doctor Sweets might go or what he might do."

"What are you going to do?" Cam asked.

"I'm going to do what Booth suggested," Perotta answered. "I just hope that we aren't going to be too late."


End file.
